THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


IN  MEMORY  OF 
MRS.  VIRGINIA  B.  SPORER 


JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 


JUDITH  OF  THE 
GODLESS  VALLEY 


BY 


HONORE  WILLSIE 

Author  of  "The  Enchanted  Canyon,"  "The  Forbidden  Trail,' 
"Still  Jim,"  "The  Heart  of  the  Desert,"  etc. 


NEW  YORK 

FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1922,  bj 
HONORS  WlLLSIE 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


CONTENTS 

PAOB 

I    LOST  CHIEF  SCHOOLHOUSE i 

II     OSCAR  JEFFERSON 25 

III  THE  GRADUATION  DANCE 46 

IV  THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  YELLOW  CANYON   .     .     68 
V    THE  HUNT  ON  LOST  CHIEF 84 

VI  LITTLE  SWIFT  CROSSES  THE  DIVIDE  .     .     .   105 

VII  THE   POST-OFFICE   CONFERENCE    .     .     .     .122 

VIII    JUDITH  AT  THE  RODEO 142 

IX    THE  TRIP  TO  MOUNTAIN  CITY 162 

X    WILD   HORSES 181 

XI    THE  LOG  CHAPEL 202 

XII    THE  FIRST  SERMON 221 

XIII  PRINCE  GOES  MARCHING  ON 242 

XIV  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BULLS 259 

XV    THE  FLAME  IN  THE  VALLEY 276 

XVI     THE  TRAIL  OVER  THE  PASS 295 

XVII     BLACK  DEVIL  PASS 312 

XVIII    ELIJAH  NELSON'S  RANCH 322 

XIX    HOME 340 


2042124 


JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 


CHAPTER  I 

LOST    CHIEF    SCHOOLHOUSE 

"To  believe  in  a  living  God;  to  preach  His  Holy  Writ 
without  fear  or  favor;  to  sacrifice  self  that  others  may 
find  eternal  life;  this  is  true  happiness." 

— The  Rev.  James  Fowler. 

IT  was  Sunday  in  Lost  Chief ;  Sunday  and  mid-winter. 
For  the  first  time  in  nearly  ten  years  there  was  to  be  a 
sermon  preached  in  the  valley  and  every  one  who  could 
move  was  making  his  way  to  the  schoolhouse. 

Douglas  Spencer  drove  his  spurs  into  Buster  and 
finished  the  last  hundred  yards  at  a  gallop.  Judith,  his 
foster  sister,  stood  up  in  her  stirrups,  lashed  Swift  vigor 
ously  over  the  flanks  with  the  knotted  reins  and  when 
Buster  slid  on  his  haunches  to  the  very  doorstep,  Swift 
brought  her  gnarled  fore  legs  down  on  his  sweeping  tail 
and  slid  with  him.  She  brought  up  when  he  did  with  her 
nose  under  his  saddle  blanket.  The  boy  and  girl  avoided 
a  mix-up  by  leaping  from  their  saddles  and  jerking  their 
mounts  apart. 

"Now  look  at  here,  Jude !"  shouted  Douglas,  "you  keep 
that  ornery  cow-pony  of  yours  off  of  me  or  I'll  make  you 
sorry  for  it !" 

Judith  put  her  thumb  to  her  small  red  nose,  and  with 
out  touching  the  stirrups  leaped  back  into  the  saddle. 
Then  she  looked  calmly  about  her. 

"First  ones  here!"  she  said  complacently.  "Even  the 
preacher  hasn't  come." 


2         JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"I  suppose/' — Doug's  voice  was  bitter — "that  if  I  rode 
over  toward  Day's  to  meet  Jimmy  you'd  have  to  tag!" 

"I  sure-gawd  would.  Swift  would  like  the  extra  ex 
ercise." 

Douglas  swept  Judith's  thin  bay  mare  with,  a  withering 
glance.  "That  thing!  Looks  like  the  coyotes  had  been 
at  it!" 

Judith  wore  but  one  spur  and  this  had  a  broken 
rowell,  but  she  kicked  Swift  with  it  and  Swift  whirled 
against  the  nervous  Buster  and  bit  him  on  the  cheek. 
Buster  reared.  "Take  that  back,  you  dogy  cowboy 
you!"  shrieked  Judith. 

Douglas  brought  Buster  round  and  raised  his  hand  to 
strike  the  girl.  She  eyed  him  fearlessly.  The  boy 
slowly  lowered  the  threatening  hand  and  returned  her 
gaze,  belligerently. 

Prince,  a  gray,  short-haired  dog,  of  intricate  ancestry, 
squatted  on  his  haunches  in  the  snow  with  his  tongue 
between  his  teeth  and  his  eyes  on  the  two  horses.  Swift 
sagged  with  a  sigh  onto  three  legs.  Perhaps  the  little 
mare  deserved  some  of  the  aspersions  Douglas  and  his 
father  daily  cast  upon  her.  She  was  a  half -broken, 
half -fed  little  mare  which  Douglas'  father  had  cast  off. 
She  did  not  look  strong  enough  to  bear  even  Judith's 
slim  weight.  But  as  the  only  horse  Judith  was  permit 
ted  to  call  her  own,  the  little  bay  was  the  very  apple  of  the 
young  girl's  eyes,  and  she  wheedled  wonderful  perform 
ances  from  Swift  in  endurance  and  cat-like  quickness. 

Buster  was  a  black  which  the  older  Spencer  had  bred 
as  a  cow-pony  but  had  given  up  because  he  could  not 
be  broken  of  bucking.  Doug  had  begged  his  father  for 
the  horse,  and  Buster,  nervous,  irritable  and  speedy,  was 
a  joy  to  the  boy's  sixteen-year-old  heart. 

Douglas  sat  tall  in  the  saddle.     He  measured,  in  fact, 


LOST  CHIEF  SCHOOLHOUSE  3 

a  full  five  feet  ten  inches  without  his  high-heeled  rid 
ing-boots.  He  was  so  thin  that  his  leather  rider's  coat 
bellowed  in  the  wind,  and  the  modeling  of  his  cheek 
bones  showed  markedly  under  his  tanned  skin.  His  som 
brero,  pushed  back  from  his  forehead,  disclosed  a  thick 
thatch  of  bright  yellow  hair  above  wide  blue  eyes  that 
were  set  deep  and  far  apart.  His  nose  was  high  bridged, 
and  his  mouth,  though  still  immature,  gave  promise  of 
full-lipped  strength  in  its  curves. 

Judith  was  fourteen  and  only  a  couple  of  inches  shorter 
than  Douglas.  She  was  even  thinner  than  he,  but, 
like  him,  glowing  with  intense  vitality.  She  had  hung 
her  cap  on  the  pommel  of  her  saddle  and  her  curly  black 
hair  whipped  across  her  face.  She  had  a  short  nose,  a 
large  mouth,  magnificent  gray  eyes  and  cheeks  of  flawless 
carmine.  She  wore  a  faded  plaid  mackinaw,  and  arctics 
half-way  up  her  long,  thin  legs. 

"I  hate  you,  Doug  Spencer,"  she  said  finally  and 
fiercely,  "and  I'm  glad  you're  not  my  real  brother!" 

"I  don't  see  why  my  father  ever  married  a  woman 
with  an  ornery  brat  like  you!"  retorted  Douglas. 

"I  wouldn't  stay  to  associate  with  you  another 
minute  if  you  offered  me  a  new  pair  of  spurs!  I'm 
going  to  meet  Maud!"  And  Judith  disappeared  down 
the  trail. 

Douglas  eased  back  in  his  saddle  and  lighted  a  ciga 
rette,  while  he  watched  the  distant  figures  approaching 
across  the  valley.  The  glory  of  the  landscape  made  little 
impression  on  him.  He  had  been  born  in  Lost  Chief 
and  he  saw  only  snow  and  his  schoolmates  racing  over 
the  converging  trails. 

The  Rockies  in  mid-winter !  High  northern  cattle 
country  with  purple  sage  deep  blanketed  in  snow,  with 
rarefied  air  below  the  zero  mark,  with  sky  the  purest, 


4        JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

most  crystalline  deep  sapphire,  and  Lost  Chief  Valley, 
high  perched  in  the  ranges,  silently  awaiting  the  return 
of  spring. 

Fire  Mesa,  huge,  profoundly  striated,  with  red  clouds 
forever  forming  on  its  top  and  rolling  over  remoter 
mesas,  stood  with  its  greatest  length  across  th£  north 
end  of  the  valley.  At  its  feet  lay  Black  Gorge,  and 
half-way  up  its  steep  red  front  projected  the  wide  ledge 
on  which  the  schoolhouse  stood.  Dead  Line  Peak  and 
Falkner's  Peak  abruptly  closed  the  south  end  of  the 
valley.  From  between  these  two  great  mountains,  Lost 
Chief  Creek  swept  down  across  the  valley  into  the  Black 
Gorge.  Lost  Chief  Range  formed  the  west  boundary  of 
the  valley,  Indian  Range,  the  east.  They  were  perhaps 
ten  miles  apart. 

All  this  gives  little  of  the  picture  Douglas  might  have 
been  absorbing.  It  tells  nothing  of  the  azure  hue  of  the 
snow  that  buried  Lost  Chief  Creek  and  Lost  Chief 
ranches.  It  gives  no  hint  of  the  awful  splendor  of  Dead 
Line  and  Falkner's  Peaks,  all  blue  and  bronze  and  crim 
son,  backed  by  myriads  of  other  peaks,  pure  white, 
against  the  perfect  sky. 

It  does  not  picture  the  brilliant  yellow  canyon  wall 
which  thrust  Lost  Chief  Range  back  from  the  valley, 
nor  the  peacock  blue  sides  of  the  Indian  Range,  clothed 
in  wonder  by  the  Forest  Reserve.  And  finally,  it  does 
not  tell  of  the  infinite  silence  that  lay  this  prismatic  Sun 
day  afternoon  over  the  snow-cloaked  world. 

Douglas  did  not  see  the  beauty  of  the  valley,  but  as, 
far  below,  he  saw  Judith  trot  up  to  the  Day's  corral, 
he  was  smitten  suddenly  by  his  sense  of  loneliness.  Too 
bad  of  Jude,  he  thought,  always  to  be  flying  off  at  a 
tangent  like  that!  A  guy  couldn't  offer  the  least  crk- 


LOST  CHIEF  SCHOOLHOUSE  5 

icism  of  her  fool  horse,  that  she  didn't  lose  her  temper. 
Funny  thing  to  see  a  girl  with  a  hot  temper.  Ordinary 
enough  in  a  man,  but  girls  were  usually  just  mean  and 
spitty,  like  cats.  A  guy  had  to  admit  that  there  was 
nothing  mean  about  Judith.  She  was  fearless  and 
straight  like  a  first-class  fellow.  But  temper !  Whew ! 
Funny  things,  tempers!  He  himself  always  found  it 
hard  to  let  go  of  his  rage.  It  smouldered  deep  and  bit 
ing  inside  of  him  and  hard  to  get  out  into  words.  He 
usually  had  to  tell  himself  to  hit  back.  Funny  about 
that,  when  his  father  was  always  boiling  over  like 
Judith.  He  wondered  if  her  temper  would  grow  worse 
as  she  grew  older,  as  his  father's  had.  Funny  things, 
tempers!  People  in  a  temper  always  looked  and  acted 
fools.  The  guy  that  could  keep  hold  was  the  guy  that 
won  out.  Like  being  able  to  control  a  horse  with  a  good 
curb-bit.  Funny  why  he  felt  lonely.  It  was  only  lately 
that  he  had  noticed  it.  Here  was  Buster  and  here  was 
Prince,  and  here  was  the  approaching  joke  of  the 
preacher.  Why  then  this  sense  of  loneliness?  Maybe 
loneliness  wasn't  the  right  word.  Maybe  it  was  longing. 
And  for  what?  Not  for  Jude!  Lord,  no!  Not  for 
that  young  wildcat.  But  the  feeling  of  emptiness  was 
there,  as  real  as  hunger,  and  at  this  moment  as  per 
sistent.  Funny  thing,  longing.  What  in  the  world  had 
a  guy  like  him  to  long  for? 

A  long  coo-ee  below  the  ledge  interrupted  his  medita 
tion.  A  young  rider  leaped  from  the  trail  to  the  level 
before  the  schoolhouse,  broke  into  a  gallop  and  slid, 
with  sparks  flying,  to  the  door. 

"Hello,  Scott!"  said  Douglas,  without  enthusiasm. 

"I  thought  Jude  was  here!"  returned  Scott.  He  was 
older  and  heavier  than  Douglas,  freckled  of  face  and 


6        JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

sandy  of  hair,  with  something  hard  in  his  hazel  eyes. 

"He'd  better  leave  Jude  alone,"  thought  Douglas,  "the 
mangy  pinto!" 

There  was  a  shriek  and  a  gray  horse,  carrying  a  youth 
with  the  schoolmarm  clinging  behind  him,  flew  across 
the  yard  and  reared  to  avoid  breaking  his  knees  on  the 
steps.  The  schoolmarm  scrambled  down,  still  scream 
ing  protests  at  the  grinning  rider.  One  after  another 
now  arrived,  perhaps  a  dozen  youngsters,  varying  in  age 
from  five  to  eighteen,  each  on  his  or  her  own  lean,  half- 
broken  horse,  each  appearing  with  the  same  flying  leap 
from  the  steep  trail  to  the  level,  each  racing  across  the 
yard  as  if  with  intent  to  burst  through  the  schoolhouse 
door,  each  bringing  up  with  the  same  pull  back  of  foam 
ing  horse  to  its  haunches.  And  with  each  horse  came 
a  dog  of  highly  varied  breed. 

The  youngsters  had  been  racing  about  the  ledge  for 
some  time  before  the  grown  people  began  to  appear. 
The  women,  most  of  them  very  handsome,  were  dressed 
d'owdily  in  mackinaws  and  anomalous  foot  covering. 
But  the  men  were  resplendent  in  chaps  and  short  leather 
coats,  with  gay  silk  neckerchiefs,  with  silver  spurs  and 
embossed  saddles. 

When  Judith  returned  with  Maud  Day  there  were 
thirty  or  forty  people  and  almost  as  many  dogs  milling 
about  the  yard.  The  log  school  had  weathered  against 
the  red  wall  of  the  mesa  for  fifty  years.  There  prob 
ably  was  not  a  person  in  the  crowd  who  had  not  gone 
to  school  there,  who  did  not,  like  Judith,  love  every  log 
in  its  ugly  sides.  Judith  caught  Douglas'  sardonic 
gaze,  tossed  her  curly  head  and  urged  Swift  up  the  steps, 
where  she  looked  toward  the  road  to  the  Pass,  shading 
her  fine  eyes  with  a  mittened  hand. 

Finally  she  cried,  "I  see  the  preacher  coming!'' 


LOST  CHIEF  SCHOOLHOUSE  7 

"Somebody  ought  to  go  in  and  build  the  fire  if  we 
ain't  going  to  freeze  to  death!"  exclaimed  Grandma 
Brown,  jogging  up  on  a  flea-bitten  black  mule. 

"He  invited  himself.  Let  him  build  his  own  fire!" 
cried  Douglas. 

Grandma  pulled  her  spectacles  down  fram  her  fore 
head  to  the  bridge  of  her  capable  nose,  and  stared  at 
Douglas. 

"Well !  Well !  Doesn't  take  'em  long  away  from  the 
nursing  bottle  to  get  smarty.  Where's  your  father, 
Douglas  ?" 

"Home  with  the  toothache,"  replied  Doug,  flushed  and 
irritated. 

"Did  he  bring  you  up  to  let  a  stranger  come  to  the 
house  and  build  his  own'  fire?" 

"No,  but  it's  the  schoolmarm's  job  to  build  this  one," 
replied  Douglas. 

"Jimmy  Day,  you  and  Doug  go  in  and  get  that  old 
stove  going!"  ordered  Grandma. 

Both  boys  dismounted  slowly,  tied  their  horses,  and 
amidst  a  general  chuckle,  disappeared  into  the  school- 
house. 

Charleton  Falkner,  a  black-browed  rider  of  middle  age, 
with  a  heavy  black  mustache,  turned  his  horse  toward 
Grandma. 

"That's  right,  Charleton,"  the  old  lady  went  on,  "you 
come  over  here  and  help  me  off  of  Abe.  I  ain't  going  to 
stay  out  here  freezing  till  old  Fowler  comes.  Riding 
ain't  the  novelty  to  me  it  seems  to  be  to  the  rest  of  you." 

This  was  the  signal  for  all  the  grown  people  to  tie 
up  their  horses  and  enter  the  building.  Shortly  Doug 
las  and  Jimmy  came  out,  and  scarcely  had  remounted 
when  the  minister  rode  slowly  up  over  the  ledge.  He 
dismounted  at  the  door  and  greeted  the  youngsters. 


8        JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

They  replied  with  cat-calls.  Fowler  stared  at  the  group 
of  robust  young  riders,  his  gray-bearded  face  somber, 
then  he  shook  his  head  and  opened  the  door. 

Douglas  jumped  from  his  horse  and,  giving  the  reins 
to  Jimmy  Day,  he  followed  the  minister.  The  people 
within  were  seated  quietly,  and  Doug  slid  into  a  rear 
bench.  His  eyes  were  very  bright  and  he  watched  the 
preacher  with  eager  interest.  Mr.  Fowler  dropped  his 
overcoat  on  a  chair  and  strode  up  to  the  platform,  where 
he  smiled  half  wistfully,  half  benignly  at  his  congrega 
tion.  Then  he  raised  his  right  hand. 

"Let  us  pray!"  he  said.  "O  God,  help  me  to  speak 
truth  to  these  people  who  ten  years  ago  laughed  me  from 
this  room.  Help  me  to  open  their  eyes  that  they  may 
behold  You!  Show  them  that  they  lead  a  life  of  wick 
edness  from  the  babes  in  arms  to  the  very  aged,  from — " 

"'Tain't  any  such  thing!"  interrupted  Grandma  Brown. 
"There  you  go  again,  after  all  these  years!'' 

"If  you've  come  here  to  preach  old-fashioned  fire  and 
brimstone,  Fowler,"  said  Charleton  Falkner,  "you  might 
as  well  quit  now.  None  of  us  believe  a  word  of  it.  We 
most  of  us  think  everything  ends  when  they  plant  us 
in  the  cemetery  yonder,  that  is,  if  they  put  on  enough 
rocks  so  the  coyotes  get  discouraged." 

Douglas  shivered.  "I  wonder  if  that's  what  I'll 
believe  when  I  get  to  thinking  about  such  things,"  he 
thought.  "Hanged  if  I'll  think  of  'em  till  I'm  old!" 

"I'm  with  you,  Charleton!"  called  Oscar  Jefferson, 
rumpling  his  silvery  hair  with  his  soft  white  cowman's 
hand. 

The  Reverend  Mr.  Fowler  leaned  over  the  desk. 
"Charleton  Falkner,  aren't  you  man  enough  to  admit 
that  you  folks  here  in  Lost  Chief  lead  a  wicked  life?" 

"How  do  you  mean,  wicked?"  demanded  Charleton. 


LOST  CHIEF  SCHOOLHOUSE  9 

"I  mean  that  you  steal  cattle,  that  you  shoot  to  kill, 
that  there  is  indecency  among  your  children,  that  your 
young  girls  go  unguarded  and  that  your  young  men  are 
no  better  than  wild  horses.  I  mean  that  your  little  girls 
drink  whiskey.  And  I  defy  you  to  show  me  two  mothers 
in  the  valley  who  have  taught  their  children  to  pray 
and  to  walk  with  God." 

"Aw!"  sniffed  Oscar  Jefferson,  "if  that's  what  you've 
come  a  hundred  miles  to  tell  us,  you'd  better  quit !  That 
may  do  for  foreigners  and  city  slums,  but  it  won't  go 
down  with  the  Lost  Chief  cowman.  We're  Americans, 
here." 

"Americans !"  cried  Mr.  Fowler.  "How  much  does 
that  mean?" 

Jefferson  rose  to  his  full  six  feet.  "By  God,  I'll  tell 
you  what  it  means!  It  means  our  ancestors  conquered 
the  Indians,  in  New  England,  that  we  fought  the  British 
in  the  Revolution  and  the  rebels  in  the  Civil  War  and 
the  hombres  in  the  Spanish-American  War.  It  means 
that  fifty  years  ago  the  father  or  the  grandfather  of 
every  man  in  this  room  came  out  here  and  fought  the 
Indians  and  the  wolves  and  the  Mormons — " 

Charleton  Falkner  interrupted  with  his  twisted  smile 
that  showed  even,  tobacco  stained  teeth.  "Jeff,  this  ain't 
the  Fourth  of  July  celebration,  you  know !" 

Jefferson  somewhat  sheepishly  subsided  to  the  desk  on 
which  he  had  been  sitting. 

"That's  exactly  why  I  came  back !"  cried  the  preacher. 
"I  know  that  you  and  Lost  Chief  belong  to  the  heroic 
early  history  of  America.  This  should  be  a  valley  of 
old  Puritan  ideals.  A  church  should  stand  here  beside 
the  school.  You  never  have  built  a  church.  You  never 
have  allowed  a  minister  to  settle  here.  You  never — " 

Here  Grandma  Brown's  brother-in-law,  Johnny  Brown, 


10       JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

spoke.  "I've  deponed  that  many  a  time  to  this  crowd  of 
mavericks !  You'd  ought  to — " 

"Keep  quiet,  Johnny!"  ordered  Grandma.  "Fowler, 
if  you  are  going  to  give  us  a  regular  Bible  sermon,  go 
ahead.  Otherwise,  I'm  going  home.  I  can  jaw,  myself." 

"Also,  cuss  some,  Grandma,"  suggested  a  slow  voice. 
Grandma  did  not  heed. 

"If  you're  going  to  preach,  preach,"  she  said  to  the 
minister. 

Mr.  Fowler  threw  his  head  back.  "Ten  years  ago  I 
let  you  drive  me  out  of  Lost  Chief  before  I'd  preached  a 
sermon.  God  has  never  let  me  rest  since,  no  matter 
where  I  was,  and  when  I  was  re-appointed  to  Mountain 
City,  before  I  preached  my  first  sermon  there,  I  came 
out  here.  You  are  going  to  have  the  Word  of  God 
preached  to  you  to-day  if  you  shoot  me  for  it.  And 
beware  lest  you  come  to  Esau's  fate  for  ye  know  how 
afterward,  when  he  would  have  inherited  the  blessing,  he 
was  rejected,  for  he  found  no  place  for  repentance,  though 
he  sought  it  carefully,  with  tears." 

He  paused,  took  a  Bible  from  his  pocket  and  opened  it. 

Douglas  waited  tensely.  The  preacher  looked  to  him 
as  if  weighted  with  mysterious  knowledge,  as  if  some 
thing  infinitely  illuminating  were  to  issue  from  his  bearded 
lips.  The  boy  had  a  sudden  conviction  that  Fowler  was 
about  to  say  something  that  would  answer  the  longing 
that  had  so  oppressed  him  lately.  He  hunched  his  broad, 
thin  shoulders  forward,  his  clear  blue  eyes  on  the 
preacher's  face. 

Fowler  cleared  his  throat.  "  'Moreover,  the  word  of 
the  Lord  came  unto  me,  saying',  Now  thou  son  of  man, 
wilt  thou  judge,  wilt  thou  hide  the  guilty  city  ?  Yea,  thou 
shalt  show  her  all  her  abominations.'  " 


LOST  CHIEF  SCHOOLHOUSE  11 

He  closed  the  Bible.  "Friends,  this  is  my  message 
and  my  text.  I  am  going  to  show  you  your  abominations 
of  crookednesses.  I  am  going  to  show  you  that  hell  is 
yawning  for  such  as  you." 

Douglas  sighed.  "Old  fool!"  he  muttered.  "As 
Grandma  Brown  says,  she  can  jaw.  He's  lost  his  chance 
with  me."  He  slipped  out  of  the  door,  mounted  his 
horse  and  nodded  to  the  group  of  youngsters  waiting 
for  him.  Then  he  urged  Buster  up  the  steps,  through 
the  door  and  up  the  aisle.  The  others  followed  him. 
A  moment  later,  the  schoolroom  was  chaos.  Horses 
pranced  over  the  desks.  Dogs  barked  and  fought  among 
the  horses'  legs.  Babies  screamed.  Oaths  filled  the 
air.  Lost  Chief  rocked  with  laughter. 

Fowler  jumped  upon  the  teacher's  desk,  appealing  in 
dumb  show  for  order.  A  plunging  horse  tipped  the 
desk  over  and  the  minister  went  down  among  the  prancing 
legs.  In  a  moment  he  was  up,  and  again  he  raised  both 
hands  in  a  plea  for  silence.  Douglas,  laughing  gaily, 
twirled  his  lariat,  and  pinioned  the  two  pleading  hands, 
then,  amidst  shouts  of  laughter,  he  backed  Buster  from 
the  room,  drawing  the  minister  none  too  gently  with  him. 

Outside,  whither  the  crowd  quickly  followed,  Douglas 
halted  and,  still  laughing,  allowed  the  preacher  to  free 
his  hands. 

"Now  go  on  back  to  Mountain  City,  Mr.  Preacher," 
he  cried,  "and  don't  come  back  till  you've  learned  not  to 
scold  like  an  old  woman." 

Fowler  pulled  on  his  overcoat  which  somebody  tossed 
him,  and  mounted  his  horse.  Then  he  stood  in  his 
stirrups  and  pointed  a  trembling  finger  at  Douglas. 

"Ye  shall  find  no  place  for  repentance,  though  ye 
seek  for  it  with  tears." 


12       JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"Why  should  I  repent?''  demanded  Douglas. 

"Aw,  run  him!  Run  the  bastard!"  shouted  Scott 
Parsons. 

But  Doug  rode  between  the  preacher  and  the  threaten 
ing  young  rider.  "Let  him  go,  Scott.  He's  had 
enough !" 

Fowler  disappeared  down  the  trail.  Scott  turned 
scowling  toward  Douglas,  but  before  he  could  do  more 
Judith  cried,  "Come  on,  everybody !  Let's  go  down  to 
the  post-office  and  get  Peter  to  open  the  hall  for  a 
dance !" 

"I  will  if  somebody  brings  whiskey,"  agreed  Scott, 
turning  his  horse  toward  Swift. 

"I'll  go  over  to  Inez  Rodman's  and  get  some  if  Maud 
will  go  with  me,"  volunteered  Judith. 

"Let's  all  go  to  Rodman's,"  cried  Maud. 

The  older  people  were  riding  slowly  down  the  trail 
to  the  valley.  The  youngsters  waited  until  the  way  was 
clear  before  leaving  the  school-yard,  agreeing  in  the 
meantime  that  Judith  and  Maud  should  go  after  the 
whiskey  while  the  others  went  to  interview  Peter ;  and  the 
two  girls  departed  forthwith. 

"Some  one  besides  me  will  have  to  work  on  Peter," 
said  Scott.  "He's  sore  at  me.  I  tried  to  kick  Sister." 

"What  did  you  do  that  for?"  asked  Jimmy  Day.  "Are 
you  sick  of  living?" 

"She  bit  Ginger  on  the  shoulder.     I  hate  that  dog." 

"Jude  can  handle  Peter,"  said  Douglas.  "Come  on, 
let's  get  going." 

The  little  cavalcade  moved  noisily  down  the  trail, 
crossed  the  deep  snows  of  Black  Gorge  and  broke  into 
a  wild  race  when  the  road  opened  a  mile  below  the 
post-office.  The  horses  lunged  and  kicked  through  the 
drifts,  the  dogs  barked,  the  girls  squealed,  the  boys 


LOST  CHIEF  SCHOOLHOUSE  13 

shouted.  The  post-office  lay  in  the  middle  of  the  valley 
with  neither  tree  nor  house  in  its  vicinity.  It  was  a 
square  log  structure,  two  stories  high,  originally  an  inner 
fort  built  as  a  final  retreat  from  the  Indians.  The  upper 
room  was  now  used  as  a  dance-hall.  The  lower  floor 
contained  the  post-office,  a  general  store,  and  Peter 
Knight's  living  quarters. 

Peter  Knight  was  the  only  outsider  in  Lost  Chief. 
He  had  lived  there  a  scant  twenty  years.  No  one  knew 
whence  he  came,  nor  why.  He  was  a  man  of  education 
and  an  ardent  lover  of  animals,  a  somewhat  sardonic, 
very  lonely  man,  yet  somehow  having  more  influence  in 
the  valley  than  any  one  save  Grandma  Brown.  He 
showed  no  actual  fondness  for  any  particular  person 
save  Judith  and  his  big  mongrel  wolf-hound,  Sister, 
Sister  being  every  inch  a  person!  Douglas  had  some 
times  thought  that  Peter  showed  a  real  interest  in  him, 
but  this  interest  was  shown  almost  entirely  by  scathing 
vituperations,  so  the  boy  made  no  attempt  to  form  the 
interest  into  friendship. 

The  crowd  of  riders  drew  up  at  the  post-office,  sparks 
and  snow  flying,  just  as  Maud  and  Judith  lashed  their 
horses  in  from  the  west  trail.  Judith  waved  a  bottle  of 
whiskey. 

"Some  providers !"  cried  Scott,  putting  out  his  hand 
for  the  flask.  He  took  a  pull,  then  passed  it  on.  Boys 
and  girls  alike  took  a  drink,  then  Scott  pocketed  the 
bottle.  During  this  procedure,  the  door  of  the  post-office 
opened  and  Peter  Knight  appeared. 

He  was  about  forty-five  years  old,1  very  tall,  very, 
very  thin,  and  as  straight  as  he  was  thin.  Thick,  closely 
clipped  gray  hair  stood  up  straight  from  his  forehead. 
His  eyes  were  deep  sunk  in  his  head  and  a  piercing,  light 
blue.  He  possessed  a  belligerent  chin  below  an  obstinate 


14       JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

lower  lip  and  a  close-cropped  gray  mustache.  He  wore 
a  gray  flannel  shirt  and  blue  denim  pants  turned  high 
over  riding-boots. 

He  watched  the  passing  of  the  whiskey  bottle  without 
comment. 

"Hello,  Peter !"  called  Judith.  "Will  you  open  the  hall 
and  let  us  have  a  dance?" 

"What  have  you  been  doing  to  your  horse,  Jude?" 
demanded  Peter,  eying  the  panting  and  dejected  Swift. 

"Nothing!" 

"Nothing !  I  teir  you  what,  the  way  you  little  devils 
treat  your  horses  would  draw  tears  out  of  a  coyote. 
Starving  'em,  beating  'em,  running  'em!  You  ought 
to  be  thrashed,  every  one  of  you  worthless  young  slicks." 

Curiously  enough,  none  of  the  group  which  had  shown 
so  much  temerity  in  man-handling  the  preacher  now 
attempted  to  reply  to  Peter.  A  great  shaggy  gray  dog, 
exactly  like  a  coyote  except  that  she  was  much  larger, 
now  appeared  in  the  door  beside  the  postmaster.  A 
chorus  of  growls  and  whines  immediately  arose  from  the 
dogs  congregated  among  the  horses. 

"What  happened  at  the  schoolhouse  ?"  asked  Peter 
abruptly. 

"You're  always  preaching,  yourself;  I  suppose  that's 
why  you  didn't  attend,"  grinned  Scott  Parsons. 

"My  Yankee  horse  is  sick,"  said  Peter,  "and  I  couldn't 
leave  him.  How  did  it  go?" 

"We  ran  him  out,"  laughed  Douglas.  "We  gave  him 
a  chance  to  give  us  real  talk  but  he  couldn't  come  across, 
so  we  roped  him  and  ran  him." 

"I  thought  that  would  happen.  Poor  Fowler!" 
Peter's  voice  was  grave. 

"Listen,  Peter,"  cried  Judith,  "I  want  to  ask  you  a 
favor." 


LOST  CHIEF  SCHOOLHOUSE  15 

She  mounted  the  steps  and  stood  before  the  man.  She 
was  as  thin  as  he  and  as  straight.  Peter  looked  down  at 
her,  still  scowling. 

"Now,  Peter,  listen!  You  know  I  love  Swift  and 
wouldn't  hurt  her  for  anything." 

"Wouldn't  hurt  her!  Haven't  I  told  you  a  hundred 
times  that  running  a  horse  through  drifts  like  you  do 
ruins  'em?  No,  don't  try  to  soft-soap  me,  Judith! 
When  you  kids  want  a  favor  from  me,  don't  come  up 
with  your  horses  dripping  sweat  in  below  zero  weather." 

He  jerked  Sister  back  into  the  building  and  slammed 
the  door. 

Judith  turned.  "Well,  we  can  all  go  over  to  Inez'  place. 
She  asked  us." 

"Who's  there?"  demanded  Doug. 

"Nobody.     She  says  we  can  dance  if  we  want  to." 

There  was  a  silence,  broken  after  a  moment  by  Jimmy 
Day.  "You  can't  go,  Maud." 

"I  am  going  if  you  do !"  exclaimed  Maud.  "Make  him 
let  me  go,  Doug." 

"What's  the  use  of  being  so  fussy  about  poor  old  Inez?" 
asked  Scott.  "What  harm  is  there  in  a  dance  at  her 
place?" 

"I  don't  see  why,  if  my  mother  don't  stop  me,  yours 
should  stop  you,"  protested  Judith. 

"O,  your  mother  couldn't  boss  a  day-old  calf !"  said 
Jimmy  impatiently. 

"Don't  you  knock  my  mother!"  shrilled  Judith. 

"Your  mother — "  began  Maud. 

"Dry  up,  Maud,  or  I'll  smack  your  mouth!"  ordered 
Douglas. 

"No  you  won't!"  cried  Jimmy. 

"I  will,  anybody  that  says  anything  against  Jude's 
mother,"  returned  Douglas  promptly. 


16       JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"Aw,  if  you  folks  are  going  to  start  fighting,  as  usual, 
I'm  going  home,"  growled  Scott  Parsons.  "Every  time 
the  crowd  gets  together,  Jude  has  to  start  a  scrap.  It's 
getting  god-awful  cold,  anyhow,  and  I've  got  chores  to 
do."  He  spurred  Ginger  and  was  off. 

"Same  here!"  chimed  half  a  dozen  voices,  and  more 
horses  were  spurred  away. 

Douglas  glared  at  Judith.  "Always  making  trouble! 
I  should  think  you'd  get  sick  of  it." 

"Let  'em  not  knock  my  mother,  or  my  horse,  or  my 
dog,  then,"  replied  Judith,  tossing  her  head. 

"Your  dog!  Prince  is  my  dog,  miss,  and  don't  you 
forget  it  for  a  minute,"  cried  Douglas. 

He  spurred  Buster  onto  the  main  trail  which  lifted 
gradually  toward  Dead  Line  Peak.  Judith,  after  a 
pouting  moment,  followed  him. 

Except  for  this  steady  lift  from  seven  thousand  feet 
at  Black  Gorge  to  eight  thousand  feet  at  the  base  of  Dead 
Line  and  Falkner  s  Peaks,  the  valley  was  as  level  as  a  floor. 
The  sun  was  setting  as  the  two  left  the  post-office.  Lost 
Chief  Range,  on  their  right,  was  black  against  fire.  The 
snow  of  the  valley  was  as  blue  as  indigo.  A  gentle  but 
bitterly  cold  wind  rose  from  the  east.  Prince,  yelping,  set 
off  after  a  skulking  coyote.  When  he  had  disappeared 
beyond  a  distant  herd  grazing  through  the  snow,  Judith 
pushed  her  horse  up  beside  Buster. 

"Doug,  am  I  any  scrappier  than  the  rest  of  them?'' 

Douglas,  his  cigarette  hanging  negligently  from  a 
corner  of  his  mouth,  nodded. 

"Well,  I  have  to  be,  Doug,"  insisted  Judith. 

"No,  you  don't.  You  just  look  for  trouble,  all  the 
time.  Why  do  you  have  to  be?" 

"Who  is  there  to  look  out  for  me?"  demanded  the 
girl,  chin  in  the  air. 


LOST  CHIEF  SCHOOLHOUSE  17 

"Pshaw!  You  don't  need  a  guard,  do  you?  Besides, 
what's  the  matter  with  me?" 

"Huh!  You  don't  really  care  what  happens  to  me. 
I'm  not  your  real  sister  and  you  never  forget  it.  I'm 
lonely."  " 

Douglas  gave  her  a  curious  glance.  Was  she,  he 
wondered,  experiencing  that  feeling  of  loneliness  and 
longing  which  had  been  haunting  him  for  months?  He 
wanted  to  ask  her  about  it  but  he  could  not.  She  laughed 
at  him  too  easily. 

They  rode  on  in  silence  for  a  while,  Judith's  thin  young 
body  sagging  dejectedly  in  the  saddle.  The  lavendar 
twilight  was  gathering.  White  stars  hung  within  hand 
touch.  Prince  returned  to  the  trail  and  a  coyote  barked 
derisively  from  beyond  an  alfalfa  stack. 

"Douglas,"  exclaimed  Judith  suddenly,  "if  I  thought 
when  I  got  married,  my  husband  would  treat  me  like 
Dad  does  Mother,  I'd  never  get  married.  Getting  mar 
ried  in  real  life  isn't  a  bit  like  the  books  show  it." 

Douglas  grunted.  "I  wouldn't  worry  about  getting 
married  for  a  few  years  yet." 

"I'm  fourteen,"  returned  Judith.  "I've  got  a  right  to 
think  about  it.  Don't  you  ever?" 

"No." 

"You  think  about  girls,  though,"  insisted  Judith. 

"That  isn't  thinking  about  marrying,  is  it?" 

"What  do  you  think  about  mostly,  Doug?" 

Douglas  sighed.  "It's  hard  to  say.  I've  been  awful 
sad  lately.  I  don't  know  why.  I  think  about  that  and 
I  plan  a  lot  about  what  I'm  going  to  do  when  I  finish 
school." 

"Would  you  like  to  marry  Maud  Day?" 

"Who's  talking  about  marrying!"  shouted  Doug  with 


i8      JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

sudden  and  overwhelming  exasperation.  "What  makes 
you  such  a  fool,  Jude?" 

"How  can  I  help  talking  about  it  when  it's  my  mother 
your  father's  so  rough  with.  Of  course,  you  don't  care." 

"I  do,  too,  care.  I  think  a  lot  of  her,  but  he  don't 
mean  half  he  says." 

"Well,  he'd  better  begin  to  stop  knocking  me  around 
when  he's  mad,  or  I'll  run  away." 

"Especially  in  the  winter,  I  suppose,"  sniffed  Douglas, 
"when  it  would  be  plain  suicide." 

"I  don't  care  if  it's  in  a  blizzard,"  insisted  Judith. 
"When  I've  had  enough,  I'll  go." 

Douglas  laughed.  "Hanged  if  I  don't  think  you 
would,  too,  Jude.  You've  got  the  nerve  of  a  wolverine." 

"I  hope  Dad's  tooth  is  better,"  said  Judith,  as  dim 
buildings  and  a  lighted  window  shone  though  the  dusk. 

"Are  you  really  afraid  of  Dad?"  asked  Douglas  sud 
denly. 

"No,"  replied  Judith,  thoughtfully,  "but  sometimes  I 
hate  him." 

"I  think  he's  a  pretty  good  old  scout  in  spite  of  his 
temper,"  said  the  boy. 

"Well,"  admitted  Judith,  "I  guess  I  do  too.  At  least, 
I  can  see  why  so  many  women  like  him.  He's  awful 
good-looking.  I  can  see  that  now  I'm  growing  up." 

"Growing  up!"  mocked  Douglas. 

But  before  Judith  could  pick  up  the  gauntlet,  the 
horses  came  to  pause  before  the  lighted  window.  Judith 
jumped  from  Swift,  unsaddled  her  and  turned  her  into 
the  corral.  Then  she  went  hurriedly  into  the  house. 
Douglas  unsaddled  more  slowly,  and  strode  toward  the 
sheds  where  calves  were  bellowing  and  cows  lowing. 

For  half  an  hour  he  worked  in  the  starlight,  throwing 
alfalfa  to  the  crowding  stock.  It  was  so  cold  that  by  the 


LOST  CHIEF  SCHOOLHOUSE  19 

time  he  had  finished  he  scarcely  could  turn  the  door-knob 
with  his   aching  fingers.     He  entered  the  kitchen. 

It  was  a  large  room,  with  the  log  walls  neatly  chinked 
and  whitewashed.  An  unshaded  kerosene  lamp  burned 
on  the  big  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  Judith  was 
cutting  bread.  The  air  was  heavy  with  smoke  from  fry 
ing  beef.  A  tall,  slender  woman,  with  round  shoulders, 
stood  over  the  red-hot  stove,  stirring  the  potatoes.  She 
was  a  very  beautiful,  very  worn  edition  of  Judith,  though 
one  wondered  if  she  ever  burned  with  even  a  small  por 
tion  of  Judith's  eager,  wistful  fires.  She  turned  as 
Douglas  came  in  and  gave  him  a  quick  smile. 

"Cold,  Douglas?"  she  asked. 

The  boy  nodded.     "Where's  Dad?" 

*'In  the  other  room.     His  tooth  still  aches,  I  guess." 

"Is  he  sore  because  I'm  late?"  asked  the  boy,  scowling. 

Judith  answered  with  a  curious  jerking  of  her  breath. 
"He  tried  to  kick  me.  I  hate  him!" 

Douglas  grunted  and  marched  through  the  inner  door 
into  the  one  other  room  of  the  house.  It  was  at  least 
twenty-five  feet  square.  The  log  walls  were  white 
washed  like  the  kitchen  and  from  one  of  the  huge  pine 
rafters  hung  a  lamp  which  shed  a  pleasant  light  on  a  center 
table.  Beds  occupied  three  corners  of  the  room.  There 
were  several  comfortable  rocking-chairs,  a  big  mahogany 
bureau  and  a  sewing-machine.  Over  the  double  bed 
hung  an  ancient  saber  and  over  a  low  bookcase  was  a 
framed  sampler.  There  were  several  good  old-fashioned 
engravings  and  some  framed  lithographs  with  numerous 
books  and  piles  of  dilapidated  magazines.  Doug's 
father  stood  by  the  table  with  a  book  in  his  hand. 

John  Spencer  at  forty-six  was  still  a  superb  physical 
specimen,  standing  six  feet  two  in  his  felt  slippers.  His 
face,  so  like,  yet  so  unlike  his  son's,  showed  heavy  lines 


20      JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

from  the  nostril  to  the  corner  of  the  mouth.  Beneath 
his  eyes  were  faint  pouches.  The  thick  thatch  of  yellow 
hair  had  lost  its  yellow  light  and  now  was  drab  in  tone. 
His  flannel  shirt,  unbuttoned  at  the  throat,  showed  a 
strong  neck,  and  the  rider's  belt  that  circled  the  top  of  his 
blue  denim  pants  outlined  a  waist  as  slim  and  hard  as 
Doug's. 

He  looked  up.  "What  do  you  mean  by  coming  in  at 
this  hour,  you  young  hound?" 

"I  think  I  might  have  Sunday  afternoon  to  myself," 
said  Douglas  sulkily. 

"So  do  I.  But  that  don't  mean  you  are  to  have  all 
Sunday  night,  too.  Did  you  feed  the  calves?" 

"Yes." 

"Next  Sunday  you  be  here  by  five  o'clock,  under 
stand?" 

"Yes." 

"Supper's  ready!"  called  Judith. 

The  table  was  covered  by  a  red-checked  cloth.  A 
huge  platter  of  fried  beef,  another  of  fried  potatoes,  an 
other  of  baking-powder  biscuits,  and  a  pot  of  coffee 
steamed  on  the  table.  John  did  not  speak  until  his  first 
hunger  had  been  satisfied.  When  he  received  his  second 
cup  of  coffee,  however,  he  said,  "Well,  my  tooth's 
better.  What  happened  this  afternoon,  children?" 

Judith  did  not  reply,  but  Douglas,  with  a  chuckle,  told 
the  story  of  Mr.  Fowler's  discomfiture.  John  and  Mary 
shouted  with  laughter. 

"By  old  Sitting  Bull,  it  serves  him  right !"  John  wiped 
his  eyes.  "What  became  of  him?" 

"O,  he  beat  it  for  the  Pass!"  replied  Douglas. 

"What  did  you  do  after  that?"  inquired  Mrs.  Spencer. 

"We  went  up  to  the  post-office  to  get  Peter  to  let  us 


LOST  CHIEF  SCHOOLHOUSE  21 

have  a  dance,  but  there  was  nothing  doing.  He  just 
gave  us  all  a  jaw  because  our  horses  were  sweating." 

"I'll  bet  Swift  was  the  worst  off,"  chuckled  John. 

"That's  right !     Pick  on  me !"  cried  Judith. 

"Judith!  Be  careful!"  protested  her  mother. 

"Let  her  alone,  Mary."  John's  blue  eyes  twinkled  as 
he  watched  the  young  girl.  "She's  kept  out  of  a  row 
about  as  long  as  she  can  without  choking." 

"Some  day,  when  you  least  expect  it,"  said  Judith  with 
a  little  quiver  in  her  voice,  "I'm  going  to  run  away." 

The  others  laughed. 

"Where  to,  Jude?"  asked  her  stepfather. 

"To  some  place  where  folks  like  me." 

"I  like  you,  Jude !"  protested  John. 

Judith  turned  to  him  quickly.  "Why  do  you  thrash  me 
and  kick  me,  then?" 

"Kids  have  to  be  trained,  and  you  are  as  hard  bitted  as 
Buster,"  answered  John. 

"No  such  thing!"  Judith  suddenly  rose  from  the 
table.  "It's  just  bad  temper." 

"Judith!     Judith!     Don't!"  pleaded  her  mother. 

"Let  her  alone!"  John's  voice  was  not  angry.  He 
was  eying  Judith  with  inscrutable  gaze. 

"The  next  time  you  even  try  to  kick  me,  I'm  going  to 
run  away." 

She  paused  and  suddenly  Douglas  thought,  "Jude 
knows  what  real  loneliness  is.  She's  a  very  lonely 
person."  He  leaned  forward  and  watched  her  with  un 
wonted  sympathy.  She  swallowed  once  or  twice,  and 
then  went  on: 

"A  woman,  a  dog,  and  a  horse,  you  don't  kick  any  of 
them.  Peter  Knight  says  so.  Maud  Day's  father  never 
kicks  her.  He  hits  her  with  a  belt,  maybe,  when  she 


22      JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

doesn't  get  his  horse  quickly  enough,  and  maybe  he  hits 
her  mother  when  he's  drinking,  but  that's  all."  Judith 
began  to  gather  up  the  dishes  with  trembling  ringers. 

"How  old  are  you,  Judith?"  asked  John. 

"You  know.     I  was  fourteen  last  spring." 

"By  jove,  you  are  almost  a  woman  grown!"  John 
swept  her  with  a  look,  then  rose  and  went  into  the  living 
room. 

Douglas  followed  him  and,  sitting  down  on  the  edge 
of  his  bed,  he  unbuckled  his  spurs.  John  settled  himself 
under  the  lamp  with  his  book,  but  he  did  not  begin  to 
read  at  once. 

"Yes,  Doug;  that  girl  is  a  woman  now  and  she  has 
any  woman  in  Lost  Chief  beaten  for  beauty  and  nerve." 

Douglas  gave  his  father  a  startled  glance;  then  he  said, 
with  elaborate  carelessness,  "Rats!  She's  just  a  fighting 
kid!" 

John  chuckled.  "I'm  glad  you're  still  only  a  sixteen- 
year-old  fool,  Doug." 

The  boy  said  nothing  more.  He  scowled  and  sat 
staring  at  his  father  long  after  that  strenuous  person  was 
absorbed  in  his  book.  Then  he  kicked  off  his  boots,  pulled 
off  his  vest  and  trousers  and  crawled  into  bed.  Not 
long  after,  Mrs.  Spencer  came  in,  glanced  at  her  hus 
band,  sighed  wearily,  then  she  too  went  to  bed.  Judith 
finished  wiping  the  dishes,  sauntered  in  to  the  center 
table  and  shortly  was  absorbed  in  "Bleak  House."  Mrs. 
Spencer  was  snoring  quietly  and  Douglas  had  not  stirred 
for  an  hour  when  he  heard  his  father  say  in  a  low  voice : 

"Jude,  old  girl,  I'«m  never  going  to  lay  finger  on  you 
again." 

Jude  gave  a  little  gasp  of  surprise.  "What's  hap 
pened,  Dad?" 


LOST  CHIEF  SCHOOLHOUSE  23 

"You've  happened!  By  jove,  you've  grown  to  be  a 
beautiful  woman!" 

"Huh!  Doug  says  I'm  a  homely,  pug-nosed  outlaw." 

"Doug's  a  fool  kid.  It  takes  a  man  like  me  that  knows 
women  to  appreciate  you,  Jude." 

"Doug'll  hear  you,"  warned  the  girl. 

"He's  been  dead  for  an  hour.  Give  me  a  kiss, 
Judith." 

"I  don't  think  I  will,  I'm  too  sleepy  and  tired.  Guess 
I'll  go  to  bed!"  She  rose,  dropping  "Bleak  House" 
as  she  did  so. 

Mrs.  Spencer  woke  with  a  start.  "What's  the 
matter?" 

"Nothing!  I  just  dropped  a  book."  Judith  retired 
to  her  own  corner  and  shortly  she  too  was  asleep. 

But  Douglas,  new  thoughts  surging  through  his  brain, 
lay  awake  long  after  his  father  had  turned  out  the  light 
and  crawled  in  beside  Mary.  Of  a  sudden,  he  had  seen 
Judith  through  his  father's  eyes  and  he  found  himself 
very  unwilling  to  permit  John  to  see  her  so.  Her 
loneliness  had  assumed  an  entirely  new  aspect  to  him. 
It  was  the  loneliness  of  girlhood,  of  girlhood  without 
father,  mother,  or  brother.  That  was  what  it  amounted 
to,  he  told  himself.  He  never  had  been  a  real  brother 
to  Judith,  never  had  looked  out  for  her  as  if  she  had  been 
his  sister.  And  Jude's  mother!  Just  tired  and  sweet 
and  broken,  about  as  well  fitted  to  cope  with  her  fiery 
daughter  as  with  the  unbroken  Morgan  colt  which  was 
John's  pride.  As  for  his  father — !  Douglas  turned 
over  with  a  deep  breath.  Let  his  father  take  heed! 
Judith!  Judith  with  her  glowing  wistful  eyes,  her 
crimson  cheeks,  her  dauntless  courage,  her  vivid  mind ! 
Judith,  with  her  loneliness,  was  his  to  guard  from  now 


24      JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

on.  Funny  how  a  guy  could  feel  so  all  of  a  sudden! 
Funny,  if  he  really  should  love  old  Jude,  with  her 
fiery  temper  and  more  fiery  tongue.  And  if  this  were 
love,  love  was  not  so  comfortable  a  feeling,  after  all. 
It  was  a  profound  uneasiness,  that  uprooted  every 
settled  habit  of  his  spiritual  being.  It  was,  he  told  him 
self,  before  he  fell  asleep,  a  funny  thing,  love! 


CHAPTER    II 

OSCAR  JEFFERSON 

"Help  those  that  need  help." 

— Grandma  Brown. 

THE  next  morning  while  Doug  was  feeding  in  the 
corral,  his  father  hitched  a  team  to  the  hay  wagon. 
Just  as  he  prepared  to  climb  over  the  wheel,  Judith  came 
out,  ready  for  her  ride  to  the  Days'  ranch,  where  she 
was  to  spend  the  day. 

"Say,  Jude,"  called  John.  "I  want  Doug  to  go  to  the 
old  ranch  after  some  colts.  You  come  with  me  and 
help  feed.  I'm  going  to  get  all  I  can  out  of  you  two 
until  school  begins  again." 

Judith  crossed  silently  to  the  wagon  and  climbed 
aboard.  Douglas  dropped  his  pitchfork  and  walked 
deliberately  toward  the  fence.  As  he  climbed  it,  he 
said,  "Judith,  you  aren't  going.  You  keep  your  date 
with  Maud."  He  dropped  from  the  fence  to  his 
father's  side. 

John  turned  to  him  with  a  look  of  entire  astonish 
ment. 

"Jude's  growing  up,  as  you  say,"  explained  Douglas 
heavily.  "If  you  aren't  going  to  look  out  for  her,  I 
am." 

"O,  you  are!     And  why?"  demanded  his  father. 

"Because!"  replied  Doug.  "Jude,  you  get  down  and 
get  started  on  Swift." 

Astonishment,  amusement,  anger,  pursued  their  way 

25 


26      JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

across  the  older  man's  face.  Judith  put  out  her  tongue 
at  her  brother. 

"Chase  yourself,  Doug  Spencer!  You're  not  my 
boss,  you  bet!" 

John  put  his  foot  on  the  hub.  "Good-by,  Doug;  I 
hope  you  recover  from  your  insanity  by  to-night." 

Douglas  put  an  unsteady  hand  on  his  father's 
shoulder.  "She  can't  go  with  you,  Dad !" 

His  father  struck  him  roughly  aside.  Douglas  ran 
around  the  wagon.  Judith  was  sitting  on  the  edge  of 
the  rick.  He  reached  up,  pulled  her  into  his  arms,  ran 
her  into  the  feed  shed,  turned  the  key  in  the  padlock  and 
put  the  key  in  his  pocket.  As  he  turned,  his  father  met 
him  with  a  blow  between  the  eyes.  Mary  Spencer 
appeared  on  the  door-step,  pale  and  silent. 

It  was  but  the  work  of  a  moment  to  subdue  the  boy, 
and  to  unlock  the  door. 

"Get  into  the  wagon,  Judith!"  ordered  John. 

Douglas  strode  uncertainly  to  his  father's  side. 
"Judith,  you  go  get  on  your  horse!" 

The  young  girl  stood  staring  at  the  two,  something 
impish  in  the  curl  of  her  lips,  something  wistful  and 
unafraid  and  puzzled  in  her  beautiful  gray  eyes.  Back 
of  the  two  men  lay  the  unblemished  blue  white  of  the 
snow-choked  fields  and  in  awful  proximity  to  these, 
Dead  Line  Peak  flung  its  head  against  the  cloudless 
heavens.  Judith  looked  from  the  Peak  to  father  and 
son  as  though  deliberately  appraising  them.  John,  with 
ashen  hair,  with  bloodshot  eyes  and  the  tell-tales  lines 
from  nose  to  lip  corner,  but  handsome,  dominating, 
choleric,  with  his  reputation  as  a  conqueror  of  women, 
as  a  subduer  of  horses,  as  a  two-gun  man.  Douglas, 
with  his  thatch  of  gold  blowing  in  the  cold  morning  air, 
thin,  awkward,  only  a  boy  but  with  a  spirit  glowing  in 


OSCAR  JEFFERSON  27 

his  blue  eyes  that  Judith  never  before  had  seen  there. 
The  girls  of  Lost  Chief  were  sophisticated  almost  from 
the  cradle.  Judith  could  interpret  the  lines  in  her  step 
father's  face.  But  she  did  not  know  what  the  strange 
light  in  Douglas'  eyes  might  mean.  Suddenly  she 
sprang  to  Swift's  back  and  put  her  to  the  gallop. 

"You  know  what  to  expect  when  you  come  back,  miss !" 
roared  John. 

But  Judith  did  not  seem  to  hear.  Spencer  turned  to 
his  son.  "Now,  sir,  you  go  into  the  house  and  get  the 
whip!" 

Douglas  did  not  stir.  "You  aren't  going  to  whip  me 
any  more,  Dad.  If  you  want  to  fight  me,  put  up  your 
fists." 

Mary  Spencer  ran  through  the  snow  toward  the  two. 
"Don't  fight  him,  John!  Don't!  He's  just  a  child!" 

John  whirled  at  her  with  his  fists  raised.  Douglas 
jumped  before  his  stepmother  and  caught  the  blow  on 
his  raised  elbow. 

"And  that'll  be  about  enough  of  that,  too,  Dad!" 

John  caught  his  breath,  then  poured  out  a  string  of 
oaths  and  invectives,  ending  with,  "Now  before  I  thrash 
the  cussedness  out  of  you,  young  fellow,  what  excuse 
have  you  got  to  put  up  ?" 

"I  haven't  any."  Douglas  was  still  pale  and  his 
voice  broke,  childishly.  "Only,  all  of  a  sudden  it  seems 
cowardly  to  me  for  you  to  hit  Mother.  She's  not  a 
child.  You  haven't  got  the  excuse  that  you're  training 
her.  And  you  know  she  can't  hit  you.  You're  a  good 
fighter,  but  I  notice  you  don't  hit  Peter  Knight  or 
Charleton  Falkner,  any  time  they  peeve  you  a  little.  It 
was  all  right  to  lick  me  and  Jude  when  we  were  little. 
But  now  I  warn  you.  I'm  going  to  hit  back.  And  you 
got  to  leave  Judith  and  her  mother  alone." 


28      JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

John  Spencer  stood  staring  at  his  son.  Twice  he 
raised  his  heavy  fist  to  strike  him.  Twice  he  dropped 
it.  Douglas,  still  pale  and  trembling,  wondered  at  his 
own  temerity.  He  always  had  been  so  terribly  afraid 
of  his  father! 

"So  you  don't  intend  to  obey  me  any  more!"  sneered 
John. 

"Sure  I  do,"  replied  Douglas.  "Only  I'm  not  going 
to  be  licked  into  doing  things  blind,  and  I'm  going  to 
take  care  of  Jude." 

John  uttered  a  contemptuous  oath. 

Doug  swallowed  with  an  effort  but  his  steady  temper 
was  well  under  control  and  he  went  on,  "I'd  like  to  be 
as  good  a  rider  and  rancher  as  you  are  and  handle  a  gun 
as  good  as  you  do,  but  I'm  hanged  if  I  want  my  woman 
to  be  as  scared  of  me  as  Mother  is  of  you." 

"Think  yourself  a  man,  eh?  Well,  I'll  tell  you,  young 
fellow,  as  long  as  you  live  in  that  house,  there,  you'll 
obey  and  take  the  lickings  I  give  you.  My  father  built 
that  house  and  I  was  born  in  it  and  so  were  you.  He- 
men  come  from  our  breed  and  only  a  sissy  refuses  to  obey. 
I  may  not  be  as  well  educated  as  my  ancestors  back  East 
were,  but  I'm  just  as  well  trained  as  any  of  'em  and 
you're  going  to  be  too.  We  Spencers  boss  our  own 
households.  Go  get  me  that  whip!" 

"No,  sir,  I  won't  do  it,"  replied  Douglas,  a  steady 
burning  light  in  his  eyes. 

"You  mean  you'll  stand  up  to  me  and  fight  after 
vou  saw  the  way  I  could  handle  you  a  few  minutes 
ago?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  do." 

For  a  long  moment  there  was  silence,  while  Mrs. 
Spencer  twisted  her  hands  together  and  Doug  and  his 


OSCAR  JEFFERSON  29 

father  stared  at  each  other.  Then  John  gave  a  short 
laugh. 

"By  Sitting  Bull!  if  you  haven't  got  nerve,  Doug! 
Go  saddle  Buster  and  get  up  to  the  old  ranch  after  those 
three-year-olds."  Then  he  climbed  into  the  hay  wagon, 
shouted  at  the  team  and  was  off. 

Douglas'  lips  parted.  The  color  returned  to  his  face. 
Then  he  sat  down  weakly  on  the  lower  bar  of  the  buck 
fence  and  burst  into  tears,  and  he  was  more  frightened 
by  his  own  tears  than  he  had  been  by  his  father's  anger. 
Mary  Spencer  knelt  in  the  snow  before  him  and  tried 
to  pull  his  head  to  her  shoulder. 

"Doug!  Doug!  You  are  a  man!"  she  whispered. 
"You  are  a  man!" 

Douglas  struggled  heavily  with  the  strangling  sobs 
and  after  a  moment  sat  erect  and  embarrassed. 

"Douglas,  what  happened?  How  did  you  come  to  do 
it?" 

"Something  he  said  to  Jude  last  night  scared  me," 
mumbled  Doug. 

Mary  tightened  her  hold  on  the  boy's  arm.  "I've  been 
so  afraid!  So  afraid!  And  no  one  to  talk  to!" 

"Haven't  you  ever  warned  Jude  about  it?"  demanded 
Douglas,  with  a  sudden  sensing  of  a  debt  mothers  owed 
to  daughters  that  Mary  might  not  be  discharging. 

Mary  shrank.     "O,  I  couldn't,  Doug!" 

Douglas  looked  at  her  scornfully.  "I  don't  see  why 
that  isn't  your  job." 

Mary  rose  from  her  knees.  She  twisted  her  work- 
scarred  hands  together  and  looked  at  the  boy  with  pa 
thetic  wistfulness. 

"Don't  you  see,  Doug,  that  I  couldn't  make  her  under 
stand?  She's  still  such  a  child  she'd  just  laugh  at  me." 


30      JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"Child !"  scoffed  Douglas,  forgetting  his  own  previous 
estimate  of  Judith.  "She  knows  a  whole  lot  more  than 
you  do!" 

Mary  laughed  drearily.  "Now  you're  talking  like  a 
child!"  Then  her  voice  cleared  with  unwonted  purpose- 
fulness.  "No  one  who  hasn't  been  married  can  possibly 
understand  men,  or  fear  them  or  despise  them,  like  they 
ought  to  be  feared  and  despised.  When  I  think  what 
I  was  before  I  married  and  what  I  am  now,  I  feel  like  I 
wanted  to  put  Judith  where  she  never  could  see  a  man. 
It's  not  right  that  a  woman  should  suffer  so.  It's  not 
right  to  lose  all  your  dreams  like  I've  lost  mine.  Mar 
riage  was  never  meant  to  be  so." 

Douglas  scowled  in  his  astonishment.  Mary  had  been 
feeling  like  this  all  along  when  he'd  been  thinking  of  her 
as  without  nerve !  Here,  then,  was  somebody  else  lonely, 
like  himself  and  Judith. 

"I'm  sorry,  Mother,"  he  said  awkwardly.  "I'll  do 
what  I  can  to  change  it." 

"You  can't  do  anything,  my  dear.  What  I'm  suffer 
ing  is  in  the  nature  of  things." 

"Well,  anyhow,  you  ought  to  warn  Jude,"  repeated 
Douglas. 

"I  can't!"  said  Mary.  "Doug,  if  I  do  she'd  guess  how 
cowardly  I  am  and  how  I  suffer — in  my  mind,  I  mean," 
and  she  put  her  hands  over  her  face  with  a  dry  sob. 

Douglas  put  his  long  young  arm  about  her.  "I'll  take 
care  of  it  for  you,"  he  said  huskily.  "Judith  don't 
know  it  but  she's  got  somebody  besides  old  Peter  ridin' 
herd  on  her  now.  And  you  know  I'm  some  little  old 
herder,  Mother!" 

"I  know  you're  a  man!"  exclaimed  Mary.  "The  kind 
of  a  man  that's  mighty  scarce  in  Lost  Chief  Valley." 
She  turned  away  toward  the  house. 


OSCAR  JEFFERSON  31 

Douglas  picked  a  bridle  from  the  fence  and  started 
after  Buster. 

It  was  nearly  supper  time  and  Doug  and  his  father 
were  reading  in  the  living-room  when  Judith  returned. 
The  wind  had  risen  and  fine  particles  of  snow  sifted 
under  the  eaves  and  over  the  table.  The  wood  stove 
glowed  red  hot  and  the  smell  of  cedar  mingled  with  that 
of  frying  beef  in  the  kitchen. 

Judith,  without  waiting  to  take  off  her  mackinaw, 
cheeks  scarlet,  eyes  brilliant,  stood  before  her  father. 

"Here   I   am,   Dad." 

John  looked  up  from  his  book.  "Have  you  milked 
yet?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Go  out  and  do  it." 

"I  want  to  know  if  you're  going  to  lick  me,  Dad?" 

"What  did  I  promise  you,  last  night?"  he  demanded. 

"Do  you  mean  to  keep  that  promise?"  asked  Judith. 

"Go  out  and  tend  to  your  milking!"  roared  John, 
rising  to  his  feet  and  throwing  the  book  across  the  room. 
"Get  out  of  my  sight,  you  little  fool,  you  blankety- 
blank — "  But  Judith  had  fled  and  Douglas  retired  to 
the  kitchen. 

Supper  was  a  silent  affair.  But  that  evening  when 
the  family  had  gathered  under  the  lamp  to  read,  Douglas 
said,  "'Scott  Parsons  wants  me  to  take  the  mail  stage  for 
him  Wednesday." 

"Where's  he  going?"  asked  John. 

"Out  after  his  registered  bull.     It's  strayed  again." 

'"Huh!"  grunted  John.  "Are  he  and  Oscar  Jefferson 
still  fighting  over  that  bull?" 

"I  guess  so,"  replied  Douglas.     "Can  I  go,  Dad?" 

"It  will  put  the  dehorning  off  another  day,  but  I  guess 
you  can  go.  That  extra  money  will  come  in  handy. 


32      JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

How  would  you  like  to  drive  the  mail  regularly  next 
winter,  Douglas?" 

The  boy  tossed  "Treasure  Island"  on  the  table.  "Do 
you  mean  you'd  let  me  have  it?" 

"What  would  you  do  with  the  money?" 

Douglas  hesitated. 

Judith  spoke.  "I  know  what  I'd  do.  I'd  put  half  the 
money  into  books.  The  other  half  I'd  use  to  buy  me 
some  buckers  and  I'd  go  into  training  as  a  lady  bronco 
buster." 

Everybody  laughed,  and  Mrs.  Spencer  said,  "You 
won't  have  time  to  keep  your  nose  in  a  book  if  you  start 
in  that  line,  Judith!" 

"I'll  always  read,"  retorted  Judith  loftily. 

"I'd  buy  me  a  silver-mounted  saddle  and  silver  spurs," 
said  Douglas,  "and  that  dapple  gray  of  Oscar  Jefferson's 
and  a  good  greyhound,  and  I'd  go  into  the  wild  horse 
catching  business." 

John  groaned.  "We've  sure-gawd  got  an  ambitious 
pair  of  kids  here,  Mary!  What  about  the  money  you 
get  from  this  trip,  Doug?" 

"Will  you  let  me  keep  it?"  asked  Douglas,  eagerly. 

"I'll  see !"     John  picked  up  his  book  again. 
•"Let  me  go  with  you,  Doug!"  pleaded  Judith. 

"Nothing  doing!"  exclaimed  her  stepfather  succinctly. 
"You  go  to  bed  now  before  you  get  me  aggravated." 

Judith  tossed  her  head  but  obediently  retired  to  her 
corner  of  the  room,  undressed  and  crawled  into  her  bed. 
Douglas  was  not  long  in  following  her  example. 

It  was  about  eight  o'clock  Wednesday  morning  and 
twenty  below  zero  when  the  mail  buckboard  driven  by 
Douglas  took  the  rising  trail  from  Black  Gorge  eastward 
over  the  Mesa  Pass.  The  snow  was  heavy  and  the  trail 
only  indifferently  opened.  To  add  to  the  difficulties, 


OSCAR  JEFFERSON  33 

Scott  had  hitched  Polly,  a  half-broken  mule,  to  the  stage 
in  place  of  the  mare  who  had  gone  lame.  James,  the  re 
maining  horse,  was  steady,  however,  and  Douglas  had 
only  a  moderate  amount  of  trouble  until  the  long  steep 
grade  up  to  the  Pass  began.  Here,  after  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  of  reluctant  going,  the  mule  balked.  James  did 
what  he  could  to  pull  her  along,  Douglas  plied  the  black- 
snake  ;  but  to  no  avail.  When  she  finally  did  move  it  was 
to  lie  down  with  deliberate  slowness.  Douglas  jumped 
out  into  the  drifts  and  by  risking  his  life  among  her  agi 
tated  legs  he  managed  to  get  her  up.  An  hour  passed 
in  the  intense  cold  before  she  finally  was  harnessed  and 
meekly  pulling  more  than  her  share. 

At  the  top  of  the  Pass,  Douglas  drew  up  to  breathe 
the  team.  Bleak,  snow-covered  rocks  rose  on  either  side 
of  the  trail,  but  opening  beyond,  snow-topped  ranges  in 
rainbow  tints  gleamed  against  a  sky  of  intensest  blue. 
Behind  him,  as  he  turned  to  look,  lay  Lost  Chief  Valley, 
with  blue  clouds  rolling  from  the  tops  of  Dead  Line  and 
Falkner's  Peaks.  Douglas  shivered  and  urged  the  team 
on.  But  the  mule  again  balked,  and  as  Doug  gathered 
up  the  whip  a  gruff  voice  cried,  "Hold  up  your  hands !" 

A  six-shooter  in  a  mittened  fist  appeared  over  a  rock 
heap  at  the  roadside. 

Douglas  blanched,  then  looked  keenly  at  the  mitten. 
"Come  out  of  that,  Jude!  Darn  it,  I  thought  you'd  gone 
to  Grandma  Brown's !" 

Judith  led  Swift  from  behind  the  rock,  and  mounted. 
Her  eyes  were  bright  with  mischief. 

"You  turn  right  round  and  go  home  again,  miss!"  he 
cried,  as  Swift  ranged  beside  the  buckboard. 

Judith  giggled.  "You  sure  do  need  a  hazer,  Doug, 
while  you're  driving  that  mule!  I  left  a  note  for 
Mother." 


34      JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"Go  home!  Don't  speak  to  me.  This  is  no  trip  for 
a  girl!" 

"You  mean  you  want  me  to  go  home  and  help  Dad 
feed  the  two-year-olds?"  demanded  Judith. 

Douglas  glared  at  her.  For  all  the  biting  cold,  her 
old  knit  cap  was  hanging  to  the  pommel,  her  mackinaw 
was  open  at  the  throat.  Her  cheeks  were  deep  scarlet, 
her  gray  eyes  half  filled  with  tears. 

Douglas  scrowled  and  his  mouth  settled  into  sulkn  lines. 
This  was  a  man's  trip.  Judith  had  no  business  to  make 
it  seem  easy  enough  for  a  girl!  And  with  this  new 
feeling  for  Judith,  she  was  making  the  adventure  too 
difficult.  Hang  it  all !  The  place  for  a  girl  was  at 
home!  But  he  knew  Jude  and  he  was  not  going  to  try 
to  repeat  the  triumph  of  Monday  morning.  He  called 
to  the  team  and  started  on. 

Judith,  having  won  her  point,  dropped  behind  the 
buckboard  and  the  journey  continued  in  silence.  They 
reached  the  half-way  cabin  late  in  the  afternoon.  The 
little  log  hut,  with  a  rude  horse  shelter  beside  it,  stood 
in  a  clump  of  cedar  close  beside  the  trail.  The  snow 
was  fresh  trampled,  for  the  up  stage  had  left  at 
three  o'clock.  Judith  and  Douglas  were  very  cold. 
They  hastily  unharnessed,  broke  the  ice  at  the  little 
spring  and  watered  the  horses,  then  rushed  into  the  cabin. 
There  was  a  bunk,  covered  by  soiled  and  ragged  quilts, 
a  table,  a  few  cooking  utensils,  and  boxes  for  seats. 
They  lighted  a  candle  and  unearthed  canned  beans,  coffee, 
and  canned  brown  bread  from  beneath  the  bunk.  After 
he  had  eaten  his  supper,  Doug  grinned  for  the  first  time. 

"Forgiven  me,  huh?"  asked  Judith. 

Douglas  nodded.  ;"It  would  be  darned  lonely  with 
out  you.  You'd  better  get  to  bed,  Jude." 

"Who  gets  the  bunk?"  asked  Judith. 


OSCAR  JEFFERSON  35 

"You  of  course!"  Douglas'  voice  was  suddenly 
harsh  again. 

Judith  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bunk.  In  the 
uncertain  light  of  the  candle  she  looked  all  eyes. 

"Doug,  what  is  the  matter  lately?  I  never  know 
when  you're  going  to  take  my  head  plumb  off." 

"Oh,  shut  up,  can't  you!  I  don't  se.e  why  girls 
can't  let  a  fellow  alone!" 

"Tell  me,  Doug:  Why  did  you  keep  me  from  going 
with  Dad  on  Monday  morning?" 

Douglas  straightened  up,  his  back  to  the  stove,  scowled, 
sighed,  then  said,  "I  feel  like  I  wanted  you  to  be  like  the 
girls  in  books  and  not  like  these  wild  women  round 
here.  And  if  you  don't  know  what  I  mean,  you  are 
a  fool." 

"Douglas  Spencer,  you  know  I'm  just  as  good  as 
any  girl  that  ever  lived  in  any  book!" 

"I  know  that,  and  I  propose  to  keep  you  so."  Doug 
lighted  a  cigarette. 

"Since  when  were  you  so  interested,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

"That  is  none  of  your  business.  Only,  from  now  on 
you  toe  the  mark,  miss." 

"You're  not  my  boss,  Doug  Spencer!" 

"Yes,  I  am,"  returned  Douglas  serenely.  He  finished 
making  up  a  bed  on  the  floor,  rolled  himself  in  two 
of  the  quilts  and  pulled  the  corner  of  one  over  his 
head. 

Judith  put  out  her  tongue  at  his  muffled  form  and 
crept  under  the  quilts  that  remained  on  the  bunk.  By 
and  by  the  moonlight  appeared  through  the  window. 
The  stove  grew  cold.  The  howling  of  the  coyotes 
circled  nearer  and  nearer.  Suddenly  a  rifle-shot  rung 
out,  then  another.  The  shots  did  not  waken  the  sleep 
ing  boy  and  girl,  but  the  mule  brayed  and  began  to 


36       JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

kick  with  the  rapidity  of  machine-gun  fire.  They 
both  jumped  up  and  ran  out.  The  mule  was  just  dis 
appearing  across  the  trail.  Douglas  jumped  on  Swift's 
bare  back,  catching  the  lariat  from  the  saddle  that  lay  on 
the  manger. 

"I'll  come  too,  on  James!"  cried  Judith.  "I'll  ride 
to  the  right!" 

Douglas  urged  Swift  through  the  drifts,  circled  a 
cedar  grove,  and  saw  the  mule  stop  to  sniff  at  a  horse 
which  stood  beside  a  dark  heap  in  the  snow.  Judith 
appeared  around  the  opposite  side  of  the  grove  and  the 
mule  dashed  away.  They  both  hurried  toward  the  quiet 
heap  on  the  ground.  A  man  lay  in  the  drifts,  his  rifle 
beside  him.  It  was  Oscar  Jefferson,  with  blood  running 
out  of  his  temple  into  the  snow. 

"Is  he  dead?"  whispered  Judith,  crowding  James 
up  against  Swift. 

"I  guess  so.  Must  have  been  the  shot  that  scared 
the  mule.  Come  on,  Judith!  We've  got  to  get  him 
into  the  cabin,  somehow." 

Judith  began  to  cry.  "I  couldn't  touch  a  dead  man, 
Douglas !" 

Douglas'  own  lips  were  very  uncertain  in  the  moonlight 
but  he  answered,  firmly  enough,  "We've  got  to  do  it. 
The  coyotes  will  get  him  here." 

"They'll  say  we  shot  him!"  sobbed  Judith. 

Doug  gave  a  start.  "They  sure-gawd  will !  What 
shall  we  do,  Jude?" 

"Go   off  and   leave  him  and   say  nothing  about  it." 

"With  our  horses'  tracks  all  round  him!  You're 
crazy !  Anyhow,  we  couldn't  go  off  and  leave  a  neighbor 
like  this.  'Tisn't  Lost  Chief  manners." 

"All  right."  Jude  wiped  her  eyes  on  her  sleeve. 
'"Let's  put  the  lariat  round  his  feet  and  let  Jeff's  horse 


OSCAR  JEFFERSON  37 

pull  him  to  the  cabin.     It  won't  hurt  him  in  the  soft 
snow." 

"Nothing  will  hurt  him  any  more,  poor  old  Jeff," 
said  Douglas. 

He  dismounted  and  moved  toward  the  body.  Then, 
with  teeth  chattering  audibly,  he  tied  the  lariat  round 
Jeff's  feet  and  told  Jude  to  get  on  to  the  saddled  horse. 

"Guide  him  easy.  I'll  walk  and  lead  the  other  horses 
and  see  that  nothing  goes  wrong." 

Still  whimpering,  Judith  obeyed,  and  the  strange  little 
procession  moved  toward  the  cabin.  When  they  reached 
the  shed,  Doug  loosened  the  lariat.  "Judith,"  he  said, 
"the  best  thing  we  can  do  is  to  put  him  in  the  buck- 
board  and  take  him  home." 

"I'm  so  afraid  of  a  dead  man,  Doug!" 

"So  am  I.  But  it's  only  poor  old  Oscar,  after  all, 
who's  been  our  next-door  neighbor  all  our  lives.  We 
can't  leave  him  here  alone,  like  a  dead  horse.  We'll 
take  him  home.  That's  what  Dad  or  any  of  the  men 
would  do.  Come  on,  Jude." 

They  established  poor  Oscar  on  the  floor  of  the  buck- 
board,  among  the  mail  bags.  They  hitched  up  James 
and  Oscar's  big  black,  and  tied  Swift  to  the  tail  end. 
All  this  time  the  moon  shone  coldly  on  the  white  hills, 
and  the  coyotes  howled  nearer  and  nearer. 

"Cover  him  deep  with  the  quilts,  Doug,"  whispered 
Judith.  "I'm  going  to  make  up  a  pot  of  hot  coffee, 
before  we  start." 

"How  about  that  mule?"  whispered  Douglas. 

"Let  it  go  plumb  to  hell!"  returned  Judith.  "Scott's 
the  one  should  have  been  shot,  for  sending  you  out 
with  such  a  brute!" 

"If  it  hadn't  been  for  the  mule,  we'd  never  have 
found  him,"  muttered  Douglas. 


38      JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

It  was  not  much  after  eleven  when  the  two,  huddled 
together  on  the  seat  of  the  buckboard,  started  back 
for  Lost  Chief.  The  cold  was  so  intense  that  they 
were  obliged  to  take  turns  driving.  When  the  road 
permitted,  they  walked  until  even  their  hardy  lungs 
demanded  rest.  Then  they  huddled  together  again,  their 
knees  touching  the  dashboard,  lest  Oscar's  poor  dead 
feet  should  thrust  against  theirs. 

They  talked  very  little  except  to  guess  as  to  the  prob 
able  name  of  the  murderer.  Toward  dawn,  when  the 
moon  had  set  and  Douglas  was  trusting  the  trail  to 
the  horses,  he  said: 

"Do  you  remember  at  the  schoolhouse  Sunday,  when 
Charleton  said  he  didn't  believe  in  a  hereafter,  old 
Jeff  chimed  in  and  said,  'Me  too'?" 

"I  remember,"  replied  Judith. 

"What  do  you  suppose  Jeff  thinks  about  it  now?" 

"He  ain't  thinking.  He's  gone.  There's  no  here 
after.  Dad  says  so."  Judith  huddled  still  closer. 

"Isn't  it  horrible!"  shuddered  Douglas.     "Horrible!" 

Judith  began  to  cry  again.  "If  there  was  just  a 
heaven,"  she  sobbed,  "I  wouldn't  mind  living  or  dying 
either." 

"Well,  there  isn't  any."  Douglas  heaved  a  great  sigh. 
"I  wonder  if  they  hang  kids  as  young  as  us  for  murder?" 

"Let  them  try  hanging  me,  just  once!  That's  all 
I've  got  to  say!"  exclaimed  Judith  stoutly,  in  spite  of 
her  chattering  teeth.  "The  worst  I  ever  did  to  Oscar 
Jefferson  was  to  play  bucking  bronco  on  that  old  milch 
cow,  Jinny,  of  his.  And  she  sure-gawd  could  buck! 
But  I  was  only  a  little  girl  then  and  I  can  prove  it." 

"Looks  as  if  we  might  be  in  real  trouble  to  me!'1 
muttered  Douglas. 


OSCAR  JEFFERSON  39 

"It's  growing  daylight  and  there's  the  Pass,  at  last!" 
suddenly  cried  Judith. 

Douglas  drew  a  deap  breath  and  urged  on  the  weary 
horses. 

It  was  full  nine  o'clock  when  the  team  drew  up  at  the 
post-office  door.  At  Doug's  halloo,  Peter  Knight  ap 
peared.  Sister  crowded  out  the  door  past  him,  pricked 
her  ears  forward  and  ran  to  sniff  at  the  rear  of  the  buck- 
board. 

"What  on  earth  brings  you  back  at  this  hour?" 
demanded  Peter. 

"Trouble!"  Douglas  moistened  his  frost-cracked  lips. 
"Oscar  Jefferson  was  shot  last  night.  We  got  his  body 
here." 

"Who  shot  him?"  asked  Peter. 

"We  don't  know." 

"Where  was  it?  Here,  Sister,  get  back  in  the  house!" 
Peter  jerked  the  door  wide. 

Judith  answered.  "Up  beyond  the  cedars,  across  from 
the  half-way  house.  We  found  him  while  we  were 
hunting  for  that  devilish  old  mule." 

Peter  looked  keenly  at  the  two  haggard  young  faces, 
then  he  said,  "You  two  come  in  and  eat  and  get  warm. 
I'll  do  some  telephoning." 

"I  want  to  get  home  to  my  mother,"  half  sobbed 
Judith. 

"Sha'n't  we  take  him  on  to  his  house?"  asked 
Douglas. 

Peter  replied  impatiently,  "You  know  he  was  baching 
it  alone  while  young  Jeff's  in  California.  You  come 
as  I  tell  you!" 

Stiffly  the  two  stumbled  out  of  the  stage  and  into 
the  warmth  of  Peter's  quarters.  He  had  just  begun 


40       JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

his  own  breakfast  and,  at  his  orders,  Douglas  and 
Judith  devoured  it  while  Peter  went  to  the  telephone. 
In  an  incredibly  short  time  John  Spencer  and  Frank 
Day,  the  sheriff,  galloped  up  to  the  door.  To  them 
and  to  Peter,  the  young  people  told  their  story. 

The  sheriff  asked  a  number  of  questions.  After  he 
had  finished  Douglas  queried  anxiously : 

"You  ain't  going  to  try  and  put  it  on  us,  Frank?" 

Frank  grinned.  "Well,  I  might,  if  the  suspicions  I 
have  as  to  another  party  prove  wrong." 

"Don't  torture  'em,  Frank!"  protested  Peter. 
"They've  been  through  a  good  deal  for  kids." 

"Scott  Parsons  was  the  only  rider  in  the  valley  who 
didn't  like  Oscar,"  said  John.  "That  war  they've  had 
for  two  years  over  the  bull  was  bound  to  end  in  trouble. 
I  warned  Oscar." 

"Oscar  was  more  to  blame  than  Scott,"  said  the 
sheriff.  "He  was  the  meanest  man  for  hanging  out 
on  a  fool  thing  I  ever  knew.  And  I'm  just  as  fond  of 
Oscar  as  the  rest  of  you.  What  was  a  bull  to  Oscar! 
He  could  buy  a  dozen  of  'em.  Scott  hasn't  a  thing  on 
earth  except  wages  for  riding  and  that  mangy  little  herd 
of  slicks  he's  picked  up." 

"Picked  up  is  right!"  grunted  John.  "That  bull, 
whoever  it  belonged  to,  is  standard  bred." 

"Scott  was  born  with  a  nasty  temper."  Peter  spoke 
thoughtfully.  "He  told  Oscar  in  front  of  me  he  would 
get  him.  That  was  about  two  weeks  ago." 

"Did  Oscar  tell  any  one  he  was  going  anywhere?'' 
asked  the  sheriff. 

"Not  me,"  said  Peter.  "Why  not  let  the  kids  go 
home?" 

"Sure,"  agreed  Frank.  "You've  done  a  good  night's 
work,  you  two.  Get  some  sleep  now." 


OSCAR  JEFFERSON  41 

"You'll  find  Buster  tied  to  my  saddle,  Doug,"  said 
John.  "JU(iith,  can  Swift  still  move?" 

0<You  bet  she  can!"  replied  Judith. 

There  was  a  laugh,  and  the  two  young  people  gladly 
mounted  and  trotted  into  the  home  trail. 

Oscar's  wife  had  long  been  dead.  His  son  was  on 
a  cattle  buying  trip  and  could  not  be  reached.  Oscar 
had  been  one  of  the  richest  men  in  the  very  well  condi 
tioned  valley,  so,  instead  of  taking  the  body  up  to  the 
lonely  ranch  house,  it  was  laid  out  in  state  in  the  post- 
office. 

Grandma  Brown  always  officiated  at  deaths  and  births 
in  Lost  Chief.  After  it  was  found  impossible  to  get  in 
touch  with  young  Jeff  and  after  the  sheriff  had  made 
a  three  days'  investigation,  she  ordered  the  funeral  to 
take  place  at  once. 

"We  could  pack  him  down  in  the  ice  till  a  thaw  opens 
up  the  cemetery  a  little,"  suggested  Charleton  Falkner. 
"You  know  what  a  god-awful  job  it  is  making  a  grave 
in  the  cemetery  in  winter,  between  the  frost  and  the 
rocks." 

"He's  going  to  be  buried  now,  while  he's  in  good  trim," 
declared  Grandma.  "I'm  not  going  to  have  him  ruined, 
waiting  for  spring.  You  men  get  to  work  now,  in  shifts, 
like  you  did  for  old  Ma  Day." 

Grandma's  word  was  law  in  Lost  Chief,  and  the  grave 
forthwith  was  prepared.  John  Spencer,  Peter  Knight, 
and  Charleton  Falkner  were  appointed  by  the  old  lady 
to  do  the  work,  and  Douglas  accompanied  his  father. 
Old  Johnny  Brown  appeared  while  the  work  was  in 
process. 

The  cemetery  was  fenced  in,  but  except  for  a  few 
simple  headstones  and  monuments,  it  was  unadorned. 

"Queer  the  women  folks  have  never  fixed  this  place 


42       JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

up  a  little,"  said  Peter  Knight,  standing  waist-deep  in 
the  grave,  with  John.  "Most  places  I've  been,  women 
keep  the  graves  like  they  would  a  little  garden." 

Charleton  Falkner,  resting  on  a  neighboring  head 
stone,  smiled  sardonically.  ''Lost  Chief  women  have 
enough  to  do  without  dolling  up  graves." 

Cold  sweat  stood  on  Doug's  forehead.  He  stared 
from  the  gaping  grave  to  the  murmuring  line  of  pines 
that  marked  the  end  of  the  cemetery  and  the  beginning 
of  the  Forest  Reserve,  and  shuddered.  He  had  not  been 
sleeping  well  since  the  night  of  the  murder.  Johnny 
Brown,  small  and  very  thin,  with  a  scraggly  iron-gray 
beard  hung  with  little  icicles  and  his  blue  eyes  water 
ing  with  the  cold,  moved  away  from  the  headstone 
against  which  he  had  been  resting  after  his  turn  in  the 
grave. 

"That  boy,"  he  said,  jerking  his  elbow  at  Doug,  "will 
be  massified  for  many  a  year  for  driving  the  preacher 
out  of  Lost  Chief." 

"How  do  you  mean — massify!"  demanded  Doug, 
gruffly.  Johnny  might  be  half-witted,  but  his  remarks 
were  curiously  penetrating  sometimes. 

"I  mean  massify,"  grunted  Johnny. 

Peter  Knight  heaved  a  great  frosted  boulder  out  to 
the  ground  level. 

"Charleton,"  he  said  slowly,  "doesn't  the  thought  of 
lying  in  a  forgotten  grave  give  you  dumb  horrors?" 

"Sometimes,"  replied  Charleton  laconically,  as  he  beat 
his  cold  hands  together.  "But  only  sometimes." 

Douglas  strained  forward  in  the  intensity  of  his  in 
terest. 

Douglas'  father  straightened  his  broad  shoulders. 
"If  I  let  myself  think  about  it,  I  have  to  go  out  and  get 
drunk,"  he  muttered. 


OSCAR  JEFFERSON  43 

"You  don't  conject  right  about  them  things,"  cried 
Johnny.  "You  got  to  listen  to  things." 

No  one  heeded  the  sad- faced  little  man.  Peter  stooped 
for  another  frozen  clod.  "I'd  give  my  right  hand  for 
my  mother's  faith  in  a  living  God,"  he  said. 

'"But  if  there  isn't  any  God,  what  is  there?"  cried 
Douglas,  with  passionate  protest  in  his  voice. 

"Don't  you  try  to  discuss  matters  you  ain't  old  enough 
to  understand,  son,"  ordered  John  Spencer. 

"Unbelief  is  the  price  we  pay  for  scientific  progress," 
said  Charleton.  "Me,  I'm  willing  to  pay." 

"I'm  not,"  growled  Peter,  "but  I  don't  see  any  way 
round  it.  Come  on,  Johnny,  do  your  share." 

"I  ain't  going  to  dig  any  more,"  declared  the  little 
man.  "You  all  say  I  ain't  all  here,  and  the  part  that 
ain't  here  is  the  part  that  works.  Sabez?" 

Everybody  laughed. 

"And,"  Johnny  went  on,  seriously,  "I  ain't  sure  it's 
a  good  idea  to  plant  'em  so  deep.  It  takes  a  long  time 
to  grow  up  to  heaven.  It's  a  gregus  far  away  place." 

"Right  you  are,  Johnny,  old  man,"  agreed  Peter.  "It 
sure  is  gregus  far  away." 

Nobody  urged  Johnny  to  return  to  the  job  and  the 
rest  of  the  work  was  finished  in  silence. 

That  afternoon  the  funeral  took  place.  There  were 
services  at  the  post-office,  where  any  one  who  wished 
spoke  in  praise  of  the  dead  man.  There  were  many 
speeches  and  it  was  late  afternoon  when  the  funeral 
cortege  reached  the  cemetery.  The  Forest  Reserve  was 
mysterious  with  shadows  and  with  the  unending  mur 
mur  of  the  pines.  Snow  gleamed  blue  over  the  valley. 
The  saddle  horses  and  teams  were  hitched  to  the  stout 
fence  that  surrounded  the  cemetery,  and  Lost  Chief 
Valley  crowded  about  the  open  grave. 


44      JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

John  Spencer  drove  Mary  down  in  the  old  bobsled  but 
Judith  and  Douglas  rode  Swift  and  Buster  as  usual. 
Judith  had  been  nervous  and  irritable  ever  since  the  trip 
to  the  half-way  house,  but  she  had  refused  to  admit  that 
the  murder  had  anything  to  do  with  her  state  of  mind. 
She  had  a  boyish  horror  of  admitting  to  fears,  mental 
or  physical.  She  stood  opposite  Douglas,  with  a  round 
beaver  cap  pulled  down  over  her  curly  hair,  her  cheeks 
not  so  red  as  usual,  her  dark  eyes  rimmed  and  puzzled. 
Douglas  wondered  what  she  was  puzzling  over  and  re 
solved  that  after  the  ceremonies  were  over,  he  would 
ask  her. 

Douglas  could  not  know  with  what  intensity  his  deep- 
set  eyes  turned  from  Judith  and  fastened  upon  Grandma 
Brown,  who  stood  at  the  head  of  the  grave.  There 
was  a  contented  assurance  in  the  old  lady's  manner  that 
was  vaguely  comforting  to  the  boy.  He  wondered  what 
she  knew  that  his  father  and  Peter  and  Charleton  did 
not  know. 

As  the  coffin  was  lowered  into  the  grave,  Grandma 
said,  "Does  anybody  feel  like  saying  a  few  last  words?" 

There  was  a  silence  broken  only  by  the  murmur  of 
the  Forest,  then  Johnny  Brown  cleared  his  throat.  "I 
might  say  a  whole  lot  of  things.  I  wasn't  so  gol- 
darned  proud  of  Oscar  like  the  rest  of  you  seemed  to  be. 
He  had  a  gregus  kind  of  a  temper  and  oncet — " 

Grandma  turned  on  him.  "Johnny  Brown,  ain't  you 
ashamed  of  yourself!" 

"No,  I  ain't!  You  say  I  ain't  all  here,  and  the  part 
that  I'd  be  ashamed  with  is  the  part  that's  gone,"  returned 
Johnny  firmly. 

Judith  gave  an  irrepressible  snort,  then  fastened 
solemn  eyes  on  the  sky.  A  restless  clearing  of  throats 


OSCAR  JEFFERSON  45 

swept  the  little  assemblage;  then  Grandma,  indignation 
still  in  her  kind  old  voice,  spoke  once  more. 

"Can't  any  of  you  men  that  knew  Oscar  all  his  life 
say  something  comforting  before  you  close  his  grave?" 
she  urged.  "Then  I'll  try  to  do  it.  I  was  brought  up 
religious,  myself."  She  lifted  her  serene  old  face  to  the 
evening  sky.  "O  God,  this  man  wandered  far  from 
You  like  all  the  rest  of  us  here.  But  an  old  woman  like 
me  believes  You're  there  and  that  you  know  Oscar  hadn't 
a  really  bad  hair  in  his  head.  Take  his  soul,  Lord,  and 
be  as  good  to  him  as  You  can.  I  am  the  Resurrection 
and  the  Life,  saith  the  Lord.  He  that  believeth  in  me, 
even  though  he  die,  yet  shall  he  have  Eternal  Life." 

The  tears  were  running  down  many  cheeks  when  the 
old  lady  finished.  Foolish  old  Johnny  laughed,  then  he 
began  to  sing  a  hymn  in  which  several  of  the  women 
joined. 

"God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again, 
By  his  counsels  guide,  uphold  you, 
With  his  sheep  securely  fold  you, 
God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again." 

And  so  the  earthly  career  of  Oscar  Jefferson  ended. 


CHAPTER    III 

THE  GRADUATION  DANCE 

"Horses,  dogs,  guns,  women,  whiskey,  the  open  country 
of  the  Rockies — enough  for  any  man." 

— Charleton  Falkner. 

TNSTEAD  of  riding  home  with  Judith,  after  the  cere- 
•*•  mony,  Douglas,  on  sudden  impulse,  took  a  round 
about  way  to  the  post-office,  thence  toward  the  Browns' 
ranch.  Dusk  was  settling  in  the  valley.  The  quivering 
aspens  along  Lost  Chief  creek  wrere  etched  gray  rose  on 
the  deep  blue  snow.  Far  to  the  east  a  single  scarlet 
mountain-top  pierced  through  the  twilight  blue.  Buster 
loped  swiftly  through  the  swimming  landscape. 

When  he  reached  the  post-office  Douglas  did  not  stop 
but  rode  on  along  Black  Gulch  trail  to  the  Browns'. 
Grandma,  returning  by  the  direct  route  from  the  ceme 
tery,  had  been  home  for  a  half-hour  before  Doug  arrived. 
She  was  coming  out  of  the  cow  stable,  lantern  in  hand, 
when  the  boy  dismounted  at  the  corral.  Spurs  clanking, 
brave  chaps  flapping,  Douglas  ran  to  her  like  a  child 
and  caught  her  apron  in  his  gauntleted  hand. 

"Grandma!  Tell  me  something!  Did  you  believe 
what  you  said  at  the  grave?" 

The  old  lady  held  the  lantern  up  to  his  face.  "Come 
into  the  cow  stable  out  of  the  wind,  Doug." 

Within  the  dim  shelter  she  hung  the  lantern  on  a  nail 
and  sat  down  on  a  box,  indicating  another  to  the  young 
rider. 

"Yes,  I  believed  it,  boy.     Didn't  you?" 

46 


THE  GRADUATION  DANCE  47 

"No,  Grandma!  And  none  of  the  men  do  that  count 
in  this  valley.  Is  it  just  old  woman  stuff,  like  they  say?" 

"Maybe!"  sniffed  Grandma. 

"And  if  you  believe  it,"  Doug  rushed  on,  "why  did 
you  let  us  run  the  preacher  out?" 

"O,  the  preacher!  Pooh!  He's  nothing  but  a  blan- 
kety  blank  sissy  like  the  rest  of  the  sky  pilots !" 

"But  can't  I  believe  like  you  do,  Grandma?  I'm  just 
the  unhappiest  guy  in  the  world!" 

"You  mean,"  the  old  lady  spoke  deliberately,  "that 
this  is  the  first  funeral  you've  seen  that's  set  you  to 
thinking  and  the  fear  of  death  is  on  you  for  the  first 
time.  I  hope  it'll  do  you  good,  Doug.  You're  an  awful 
rough  little  devil." 

Douglas  swallowed  audibly.  "Grandma,"  he  cried 
passionately,  "how  can  I  get  to  believe  what  you  do?" 

Grandma  looked  thoughtfully  from  her  plump  milch 
cow  to  the  lantern,  and  from  the  lantern  to  Douglas. 
"Doug,  I  don't  think  you  can,  living  among  the  folks  you 
do.  To  have  my  kind  of  faith,  you've  got  to  have  a 
mother  that  breeds  it  in  you  from  the  time  you're  a 
baby." 

Douglas,  his  face  looking  absurdly  young  above  his 
broad  shoulders,  said  despairingly,  "I  don't  believe  you 
want  to  help  me." 

"Well,"  Grandma  was  still  deliberate,  "I  don't  believe 
a  wild  young  devil  like  you  really  wants  help.  You're 
just  scared." 

Douglas  rose,  drawing  himself  to  his  full  height.  He 
was  deeply  offended.  "I  thought  you  might  understand 
me!"  he  exclaimed.  He  strode  out  to  Buster  and  gal 
loped  home. 

It  was  extremely  difficult  to  find  a  moment  alone  with 
Judith  in  the  two-room  cabin;  but  the  chores  were  late 


48       JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

that  night  and  Judith,  instead  of  helping  her  mother  with 
the  supper  preparations,  went  out  to  milk,  and  so  Doug's 
second  interview  that  evening  was  in  the  cow  shed,  for 
when  he  reached  the  home  corral,  Judith  had  not  finished 
her  task. 

This  time,  he  was  not  precipitate.  He  sauntered  into 
the  little  stable  with  a  manner  of  large  leisure. 

"Hello,  Jude!" 

"Hello,  Douglas!     Finished  feeding?" 

"No.  I  just  got  back.  What  did  you  think  of  the 
funeral?" 

"I'm  not  thinking  of  it  at  all." 

"Jude,   don't  you  believe  there's  any  hereafter?" 

"Doug,  I  don't  want  to  talk  about  it." 

"But,  Judith,  I'm  lonely  and  I've  got  to  talk  to  some 
one." 

Judith  turned  an  indignant  face  toward  the  tall  boy. 
"Don't  you  suppose  I'm  lonely,  too?  What  good  does 
talk  do?  Religion  is  all  right  for  little  kids  but  you 
can't  believe  in  fairy  tales  as  you  grow  up." 

"But  what  can  we  do?"  insisted  Douglas,  the  sweat 
breaking  out  above  his  lips  again.  "Doesn't  the  thought 
of  no  God,  no  hereafter,  just  paralyze  you?" 

"I  tell  you,"  repeated  Judith  obstinately,  "I  just  don't 
let  myself  think  about  it." 

"Then  what's  made  you  so  cross  ever  since  that 
night?" 

Judith  rose  and  set  the  brimming  milk  pail  in  a  feed 
box.  Her  eyes,  in  the  lantern  light,  widened  with  a 
horror  so  devastating  that  Douglas  clutched  the  manger 
behind  him. 

"How  did  you  know?  Doug,  that's  it  and  there's  no 
place  to  go  for  help  because  there  isn't  any  help  for 
that!" 


THE  GRADUATION  DANCE  49 

The  sudden  revelation  of  her  need  roused  Douglas. 
He  moistened  his  lips  and  said,  "We've  got  to  harden 
ourselves  to  stand  it,  like  the  rest  of  'em  do.  And  when 
it  gets  too  bad  we  can  talk  to  each  other  about  it.  That'll 
help." 

Judith  clutched  his  arm  as  if  she  felt  the  need  of 
touching  a  human  being.  Douglas  did  not  stir  but  as  he 
stood  looking  down  at  her  a  strange  aching  gladness  at 
her  nearness  and  at  her  splendid  girlhood  flooded  the 
horror  out  of  his  thought. 

"I'll  carry  the  milk  pail  in  for  you,  Jude,"  he  said. 

"Fudge!"  she  returned  scornfully.  "As  if  I  hadn't 
carried  it  in  every  night  for  four  years!  You'd  better 
do  your  feeding  before  Dad  gets  after  you." 

Douglas  suddenly  laughed  and  went  out. 

For  a  day  or  so  he  was  haunted,  particularly  after  he 
went  to  bed,  by  the  thought  of  the  grave  scene  and  by 
the  comments  Grandma  Brown  had  made.  But  Doug 
was  only  sixteen,  after  all,  and  shortly  he  was  absorbed 
by  other  matters :  the  hunt  for  Scott  Parsons,  the  prep 
arations  for  the  dehorning,  and  his  new  and  thrilling 
and  secret  feeling  toward  Judith. 

The  search  for  Scott  delayed  the  round-up  only  for 
a  short  time.  A  day  or  so  after  the  funeral  it  snowed 
and  removed  the  last  chance  of  finding  Scott's  tracks. 
The  cold  was  intense,  and  the  job  really  belonged  to 
Sheriff  Frank  Day,  so  the  posse  broke  up  after  a  few 
days  and  the  dehorning  was  undertaken. 

Early  in  the  morning,  half  a  dozen  young  riders  helped 
Douglas  and  Judith  to  cut  out  of  the  great  herd  in  the 
swamp  field  the  steers  in  need  of  dehorning.  In  pro 
portion  to  their  strength,  Lost  Chief  girls  were  as  clever 
as  the  men  in  handling  horses  and  cattle.  Judith  was 
easily  the  best  of  them.  There  was  a  fire  and  vim  about 


50       JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

her  work,  a  wild  grace,  that  the  other  girls  lacked. 
Douglas,  his  vision  sharpened  by  his  new  attitude  toward 
Judith,  thought  she  never  had  looked  so  handsome  as 
she  did  this  morning,  in  her  beaver  cap,  her  new  scarlet 
mackinaw,  curls  flying,  sitting  the  excited  little  Swift  as 
easily  as  a  boy. 

Out  of  the  circular  corral  led  a  smaller  one.  A  cedar 
fire  burned  in  the  middle  of  the  lesser  enclosure.  John 
Spencer  and  two  helpers  stood  near  the  fire,  saws  at  hand, 
searing-iron  heating,  tar-pot  simmering.  The  herd 
bellowed  in  the  outer  corral.  The  riders,  ropes  in  hand, 
sat  with  laughing  faces  turned  toward  Judith,  who  was 
to  rope  the  first  steer.  Douglas  wished  that  there  were 
not  so  many  of  the  riders  with  admiration  in  their  eyes. 
Judith  sat  Swift  lightly,  edging  mischievously  now 
against  one  rider,  now  another.  Swift  bit  Buster,  who 
reared  while  Douglas  swore  laughingly.  Magpies 
swooped  from  the  blue  spruce  at  the  edge  of  the  corral, 
black  and  white  against  pale  blue.  The  cattle,  all  Here- 
fords,  red  and  white,  milled  about  and  lowed  and  tossed 
worried  heads.  The  riders,  sheepskin  chaps  flapping, 
bright  neckerchiefs  fluttering,  shouted  and  cursed  and 
fingered  their  lariats.  Dogs,  yellow  dogs,  black  dogs, 
gray  dogs,  spotted  dogs,  continuously  encroached 
from  without  the  fence  and  were  ordered  or  lashed 
away. 

Suddenly  Swift  shot  from  the  group  of  horses.  Ju 
dith  spun  her  lariat  and  a  lusty  young  steer,  well  back 
toward  the  south  fence,  turned  and  stumbled.  Swift 
sat  back  on  her  haunches,  turned  as  she  rose  and  leaped 
toward  the  dehorning  corral.  The  bellowing  steer  was 
dragged  backward,  his  left  foot  securely  roped.  He  fell 
as  they  reached  the  gate  and  skidded  helplessly  on  his 
side  through  the  trampled  yellow  snow. 


THE  GRADUATION  DANCE  51 

The  men  by  the  fire  were  ready.  One  of  them  perched 
on  the  steer's  flank  and  freed  the  lariat,  while  another 
sat  astride  his  neck  and  amidst  a  gush  of  blood  sawed 
off  the  horns  close  to  the  head.  John  seared  the  stubs 
with  the  hot  iron  dipped  in  tar.  The  poor  brute  bellowed 
with  fright  and  pain.  Judith  recoiled  her  lariat  and 
made  way  for  Jimmy  Day,  who  slid  up  with  a  protest 
ing  heifer. 

'"Jude!"  he  shouted.  "You're  the  cow  ropingest  girl 
in  the  Rockies!  Say,  Jude,  ain't  you  afraid  that  baa- 
baa  you're  riding  will  buck  with  you?  Swift!  What 
a  hell  of  a  name  for  that  thing!" 

"She  can  beat  you  roping  'em  at  that,  Jimmy!"  cried 
Douglas. 

"Better  ride  light,  Jimmy,"  warned  John.  "She 
thinks  more  of  that  mare  than  she  does  of  me/ 

"All  right,  John,"  laughed  Jimmy.  "Take  this  heifer, 
fellows!  She  thinks  she's  a  moose!" 

"She'll  think  she's  a  kitten  when  we  finish  with  her," 
chuckled  John. 

There  was  an  uproar  now  in  the  two  corrals  that 
echoed  from  mountain  to  mountain.  The  trampled 
snow  was  crimson.  White  angora  and  sheepskin  chaps 
were  gaumed  with  thick  clots  of  blood.  The  horses,  half 
frantic  from  the  smell  of  the  bleeding  cattle,  tried  every 
means  in  their  not  limited  repertoires  to  bolt  the  hateful 
job. 

The  work  had  gone  fast  and  furiously  for  some  time 
when  Douglas  touched  his  father  on  the  arm. 

"Dad,  look  up  on  the  shoulder  of  old  Dead  Line!" 

John  straightened  his  back  and  shaded  his  eyes,  A 
rider  leading  a  Hereford  was  coming  down  the  ridge. 

"That's  Scott's  horse,  Grover,"  said  Douglas.  "Can 
you  make  out  the  rider?" 


52       JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"Not  yet."  John  continued  to  stare  intently.  Others 
noticed  his  posture  and  followed  his  gaze. 

"It's  Scott  Parsons!"  cried  Charleton  Falkner. 

"Shall  we  go  get  him?"  exclaimed  Jimmy  Day. 

"No.  He's  starved  out  and  giving  up.  Let's  hear 
what  he  has  to  say,"  said  John. 

The  dehorning  went  on.  Half  a  dozen  more  bleed 
ing  steers  had  been  turned  out  before  Scott,  weary, 
gaunt,  haggard  beyond  words,  leading  an  emaciated 
young  bull,  drew  rein  beside  the  smaller  corral.  The 
roping  came  to  a  pause.  John  twisted  a  lariat  round 
the  neck  of  a  steer  he  \vas  working  on  and  led  it  to 
the  fence.  The  others  followed. 

"Well,  why  the  committee  of  welcome?"  asked  Scott 
hoarsely.  His  bloodshot  eyes  turned  from  one  to  an 
other. 

"Where'd  you  find  the  bull,  Scott?"  asked  John. 

"First  located  him  on  Fire  Mesa.  Been  round  about 
considerable  since." 

"Whose  bull  is  it  now?"  Charleton  Falkner  pushed 
Democrat  toward  the  fence. 

"Mine!"  Scott  spoke  shortly,  his  freckled  face  un 
moved. 

"Do  you  think  it  was  worth  the  price?"  demanded 
Spencer. 

Scott  looked  searchingly  at  the  crowd  before  him. 
The  steer  John  was  holding  had  been  dehorned  but  not 
seared.  The  blood  had  run  down  the  brute's  white  face 
and  formed  a  crimson  icicle  on  its  under  lip.  John  had 
run  his  fingers  through  his  ashen  hair,  leaving  it  blood- 
smeared.  Charleton  was  lighting  a  bloodstained  ciga 
rette  with  the  hot  searing-iron.  Judith  pounded  her 
half-frozen  fingers  together. 

"What  price  did  I  pay?"   asked  Scott. 


53 

"Doug,"  commanded  John,  "you  tell  your  story." 

Douglas,  with  considerable  embarrassment  and  as 
sisted  by  Judith,  told  of  their  trip  with  the  mail  stage. 
Scott  listened  with  little  apparent  interest.  He  said 
nothing  when  the  story  was  done. 

"It's  like  this,  Scott,"  said  John.  "It  looks  like  you 
killed  him.  You've  got  a  bad  temper.  So  had  Oscar. 
You  fought  for  over  a  year  about  that  fool  bull,  first 
one  of  you  branding  it,  then  the  other.  You're  young 
and  you'd  better  give  yourself  up.  You'll  stand  a  better 
chance." 

"Go  ahead,  Scott!"  cried  Judith.  "I'll  stand  your 
friend  like  you  did  mine  when  I  rode  old  Oscar's  milch 
cow  'most  to  death!" 

"Shut  up,  Jude!"  exclaimed  Douglas. 

"Go  ahead,  Scott,"  John  half  smiled.  "You  needn't 
worry.  You  have  a  friend !" 

"A  friend  won't  do  him  much  good,  if  he's  guilty," 
grunted  Charleton  Falkner. 

"Anybody's  better  off  for  at  least  one  friend," 
repeated  Judith  stoutly.  "Darn  it!  All  of  you  pick 
ing  on  poor  old  Scott!" 

"Lean  on  me,  Grandpa!"  piped  Jimmy  Day. 

Scott's  haggard  eyes  focused  on  Judith.  "I'll  hold 
you  to  that,  Jude !  By  God,  you're  the  only  white  man 
in  the  valley!  I  came  in  to  give  myself  up,  Jude.  The 
cold  got  me.  I  shot  him,  after  he'd  rebranded  the  bull 
before  my  eyes  and  after  he'd  given  me  this." 

He  ripped  open  his  mackinaw  and  shirt  and  tore  a  rag 
from  his  shoulder,  disclosing  a  vivid  wound.  "I  ain't 
the  only  one  that's  quick  on  the  trigger!" 

There  was  a  quick  murmur  among  the  riders.  John 
and  Charleton,  the  oldest  men  in  the  group,  looked  at 
each  other. 


54       JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"Charleton,  you  and  Jimmy  Day  ride  to  Scott's  house 
with  him,"  said  John.  "I'll  go  to  the  house  and  tele 
phone  to  the  sheriff."  He  mounted  and  rode  off. 

"Can  your  horse  carry  you  so  far,  Scott?"  asked 
Judith. 

Scott  nodded,  with  something  curiously  like  tears  in 
his  hard  hazel  eyes.  "You  take  the  bull,  Jude,"  he  said. 
"I'd  like  for  you  to  have  him.  He's  standard  bred." 

Judith's  eyes  shone  like  stars.  "If  Dad'll  only  let  me! 
Do  you  think  he  will,  Doug?" 

Douglas  shrugged  his  shoulders.  The  bull  was  tied 
to  the  fence  and  Scott  rode  slowly  away  with  his  escort. 
When  John  returned  from  telephoning  he  gave  a  grudg 
ing  consent  to  Judith's  taking  the  bull,  and  the  dehorning 
went  on.  Not  until  the  blue  velvet  shadow  of  Falkner's 
Peak  lay  heavy  on  the  incarnadined  corral  and  the  last 
bellowing  steer  had  found  solace  at  the  haystacks  did  the 
riders  start  homeward.  Douglas  followed  Judith,  as  she 
led  the  scare-crow  bull. 

"He's  a  good  mate  for  Swift,"  he  said. 

"You're  just  jealous!"  retorted  Judith. 

'"Of  what?"  demanded  Douglas. 

"Of  me  starting  a  herd  before  you  do!" 

"Ha!  Ha!"  ejaculated  Doug,  without  a  smile,  and 
nothing  more  was  said  until  they  reached  the  house. 

At  supper  that  night  John  asked  Judith  why  she  had 
shown  so  much  friendship  for  Scott  Parsons. 

"I  was  sorry  for  him,"  she  replied. 

"But  he  killed  our  old  neighbor!"  exclaimed  John. 

'•"Yes,  and  Oscar  had  a  notch  on  his  gun,  Dad;  and 
you  have  one  on  yours." 

"We  put  those  notches  there  in  the  early  days,"  re 
turned  John,  "when  every  cowman  carried  the  law  on  his 


THE  GRADUATION  DANCE  55 

hip.  It's  different  now.  You're  altogether  too  highty- 
tighty,  Jude,  for  a  girl.  You  keep  away  from  Scott 
Parsons,  or  I'll  make  you  regret  it." 

Judith  made  no  reply. 

Scott's  trial  took  place  in  April.  It  was  a  matter  of 
deep  interest,  of  course,  to  Lost  Chief,  and  every  one 
who  could  get  to  Mountain  City  by  horse,  wagon,  or 
automobile,  attended  the  court  sessions.  Judith  and 
Douglas  were  chief  witnesses  and  were  royally  enter 
tained  by  young  Jeff,  who  had  returned  to  Lost  Chief  a 
week  or  so  after  his  father's  funeral. 

Scott  was  acquitted  on  the  plea  of  self-defense  but  he 
did  not  return  at  once  to  Lost  Chief.  The  attitude  of 
young  Jeff  did  not  make  an  early  return  seem  diplomatic. 

Douglas,  when  he  came  home  from  the  trial,  had  a 
curious  feeling  that  the  winter  just  passed  had  ended  his 
boyhood.  He  did  not  know  why.  He  was  not  old 
enough  to  realize  that  when  the  fires  of  desire  and  the 
fear  of  death  begin  to  sear  a  boy's  mind,  adolescence  is 
passing  and  manhood  has  all  but  arrived. 

Judith,  who  had  accomplished  her  fifteenth  birthday  in 
March,  a  day  or  so  before  Doug  arrived  at  the  dignity 
of  seventeen,  had  changed  too.  She  had  been  less  pro 
foundly  affected  by  the  murder  than  Douglas;  not  that 
she  was  less  sensitive  or  intelligent  than  he,  but  she  was 
far  less  introspective  than  her  foster-brother.  And 
Judith  had  two  unfailing  foods  for  all  hungers  of  the 
mind.  One  was  her  love  of  reading,  the  other,  her  love 
of  riding;  both  absorbing,  to  the  elimination  of  self 
investigation. 

Douglas  read  a  great  deal,  himself.  Books  and  maga 
zines  furnished  the  only  mental  stimulants  in  the  valley 
and  it  was  a  surprisingly  well-read  community.  But 


56       JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Douglas,  caring  for  Judith  as  he  did,  found  it  impossible 
to  become  fully  absorbed  in  his  old  pastimes..  He  was 
restless,  moody  and  lonely  as  only  youth  can  be. 

He  and  Judith  both  graduated  from  the  log  school 
early  in  June.  There  was  the  usual  graduation  dance 
at  the  post-office  at  which,  as  usual,  Peter  Knight  officia 
ted.  It  was  a  heavenly  moonlit  night.  The  air  was 
fragrant  from  the  acres  of  budding  alfalfa  and  full  of 
the  lift  and  tingle  that  can  belong  to  June  only  in  the 
high  altitudes.  The  ever  strong,  steady  west  wind  of 
Lost  Chief  summers  swirled  down  the  valley. 

The  hail  was  dimly  lighted  by  a  single  kerosene  lamp. 
Cigarette  smoke  mingled  with  the  pungent  smell  of 
whiskey,  which  seemed  to  be  the  chief  ingredient  of  a 
concoction  in  a  large  pail,  under  the  lamp.  In  the 
corner  opposite  the  pail  was  a  phonograph  over  which 
Peter  presided. 

Everybody  danced.  Even  the  dogs  were  not  prohi 
bited  the  floor.  On.ly  when  Sister  started  a  fight  with 
Prince  did  any  one  protest  and  the  dogs  were  driven 
back,  temporarily,  under  the  benches. 

The  schoolgirls  in  their  white  dresses  we're,  of  course, 
the  belles  of  the  occasion.  Lost  Chief,  living  its  intensive 
life  of  isolation,  probably  did  not  realize  of  what  superb 
physique  were  the  youngsters  o*f  its  third  generation. 
Jimmy  Day  devoted  himself  to  Little  Marion  Falkner, 
aged  fourteen.  Marion  was  called  little  to  distinguish 
her  from  her  mother,  also  Marion.  The  daughter  at 
fourteen  was  five  feet  ten  inches  in  height,  the  mother 
an  inch  taller.  Even  a  badly  cut  muslin  dress  could  not 
fully  conceal  the  fine  breadth  of  Little  Marion's  shoul 
ders  nor  the  splendid  length  and  straightness  of  her 
legs. 

Jocelyn   Brown,    Grandma's   grand-daughter,   dancing 


THE  GRADUATION  DANCE  57 

frequently  with  Charleton  Falkner,  was  at  twelve  only 
slightly  shorter  than  Little  Marion.  She  had  the  face 
of  an  angel,  the  vocabulary  of  a  cowman,  and  was  built 
of  steel. 

Inez  Rodman,  very  fair  and  slender,  easily  five  feet 
nine,  was  scorned  by  the  older  women  but  was  brazenly 
popular  with  their  husbands  and  the  younger  set  of  boys 
and  girls. 

Judith  danced  all  the  time  but  only  occasionally  with 
Douglas,  who  took  her  to  task  for  her  neglect. 

"But,  Doug,  you  and  Dad  are  no  novelty  to  dance 
with.  What's  the  matter  with  you  anyhow?  You  never 
used  to  want  to  dance  with  me." 

"I'm  just  trying  to  keep  you  from  dancing  with  all 
these  roughneck  riders."  Douglas'  chin  was  in  the  air 
above  his  bright  blue  silk  neck  scarf. 

Judith's  eyes  swept  him  appraisingly.  His  white  silk 
shirt  hung  loose  on  his  thin,  fine  shoulders.  His  broad 
rider's  belt,  studded  with  blue  enameled  rings,  encircled 
a  waist  almost  as  slender  as  Jude's  own.  His  white 
duck  trousers  were  turned  up  to  display  new  riding  boots, 
and  his  spurs,  a  graduation  gift,  were  of  silver  and 
chimed  at  his  slightest  movement. 

"You're  almost  as  good-looking  as  Jimmy  Day,"  she 
said  with  a  sudden  chuckle.  "Run  along,  Doug.  You 
aren't  old  enough  to  protect  me  from  these  bad  men!" 
And  she  turned  to  dance  with  the  waiting  Jimmy. 

It  was  nearing  midnight  when  Douglas  achieved  his 
first  dance  with  Inez.  She  was  the  best  dancer  in  the 
room,  and  Douglas  told  her  so. 

"I'll  bet  you  haven't  told  that  to  the  other  girls,"  she 
said  with  a  flash  of  her  white  teeth. 

"I  have!  I  said  it  to  Jude  when  she  turned  me  down 
for  Dad." 


58      JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"Smart!  Helps  both  you  and  me  with  Jude,  of 
course!" 

"Much  you  care  about  that!"  retorted  Douglas. 

"I  like  to  be  liked,  of  course,"  said  Inez. 

"You  do?"  Douglas'  voice  was  so  honestly  incredu 
lous  that  Inez  exclaimed  resentfully : 

"Am  I  so  much  worse  than  a  lot  of  the  kids  at  school  ?" 

Douglas  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  replied,  "Judith's 
straight.  I've  kept  her  so." 

Inez  laughed.  "Judith's  straight  because  she's  that 
kind  of  a  girl.  Why  don't  you  watch  your  dad  instead 
of  Jude?" 

Douglas'  lips  tightened  and  Inez  studied  his  face  in 
silence  for  a  moment ;  then  she  went  on,  "Pretty  fond  of 
Jude,  aren't  you,  Doug?  Your  father  is  a  devil  with 
women — that  big,  bossy,  good-looking  kind  always  is. 
I  tell  Jude  so  every  time  I  see  her." 

"How  often  do  you  see  her?"  demanded  Douglas 
quickly. 

""I  guess  she  has  a  right  to  come  to  my  house  as  often 
as  she  wants  to." 

"No,  she  hasn't,"  brusquely. 

Inez  sniffed,  then  smiled.  She  had  a  frank  and  lovely 
smile.  Douglas'  face  softened  and  they  finished  the 
waltz  in  silence. 

Not  all  the  music  was  of  the  cheaply  popular  variety. 
Between  dances  Peter  slipped  on  occasional  opera  rec 
ords.  He  was  playing  from  Martha: 

"Ah,  so  pure,  so  bright, 
Burst  her  beauty  upon  my  sight, 
Ah,  so  mild,  ah,  so  divine 
She  beguiled  this  heart  of  mine." 

when  a  man  called  from  the  open  door,  "Good  evening, 
folks!" 


THE  GRADUATION  DANCE  59 

"Why,  it's  Scott  Parsons!"  cried  Grandma  Brown. 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  the  tender  voice  of 
the  phonograph  thrilled  on.  Young  Jeff,  his  red  face  even 
redder  than  his  visits  to  the  pail  would  warrant,  put  his 
hand  to  his  hip.  Judith  darted  before  him  and  ran  the 
length  of  the  room. 

"Hello,  Scott!  Welcome  home!  The  next  dance  is 
yours." 

"No,  it's  not!"  shouted  John  Spencer.  "You  let 
Judith  alone,  you  blank  young  outlaw  you!" 

"Get  out  of  my  way,  Jude!"  shouted  Young  Jeff.  "I 
told  Scott  not  to  come  back  to  Lost  Chief!" 

He  strode  down  the  room,  his  hand  still  on  his  gun. 
Scott's  hand  had  been  equally  quick.  Peter  Knight 
turned  off  the  machine.  "Hold  on,  Jeff!"  he  cried. 
"You  turned  Scott  over  to  the  law,  and  the  law  acquitted 
him.  If  you'd  wanted  to  take  things  in  your  own  hands, 
you  should  have  done  so  before  the  trial.  If  you  kill 
Scott,  you're  no  better  than  he  is." 

"That's  right!"  cried  Grandma  Brown.  "And  your 
record  ain't  so  clean,  Young  Jeff,  that  you  can  afford  to 
start  anything!" 

Judith  tossed  her  head.  "I  don't  see  why  Young  Jeff 
should  be  allowed  to  spoil  a  perfectly  good  party." 

"If  you  can't  put  him  out,  Jude,  I  can!"  cried 
Inez. 

Everybody  laughed.  Jude  seized  one  of  Young  Jeff's 
big  hands,  Inez  the  other.  There  was  an  uproarious 
scuffle  which  ended  in  the  three,  laughing  immoderately, 
executing  a  hybrid  folk  dance  to  the  one-step  which  Peter 
began  to  play.  And  Scott  danced  unmolested  during  the 
remainder  of  the  night. 

Charleton  Falkner  had  drunk  a  good  deal  but  was  as 
yet  little  the  worse  for  it.  He  and  Douglas  met  at  the 


60       JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

pail  shortly  after  midnight.  Charleton  gave  the  young 
man  an  amused  glance. 

"You  look  sort  of  bored,  Doug!  Come  outside  and 
talk  a  little." 

Douglas  gave  a  quick  glance  around  the  hall — at  Judith, 
swooping  in  great  circles  with  Scott  Parsons,  at  Inez 
dancing  with  his  father.  "All  right!"  he  said,  and  fol 
lowed  Charleton  out  into  the  moonlight.  They  perched 
on  the  buck  fence  and  smoked  for  a  time  in  silence. 

"That's  a  good  horse  of  Young  Jeff's,  eh?"  said 
Charleton  finally. 

"Not  as  good  as  the  dapple  gray  he  gave  me  will  be 
when  I  get  time  to  break  him,"  replied  Douglas.  "I 
don't  know!  I'm  not  as  interested  in  things  as  I  was." 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Charleton,  sympathetic 
ally. 

"I  guess  Oscar's  killing  upset  me,"  said  Douglas 
vaguely. 

"I  don't  suppose  you  ever  heard  of  Weltschmerz," 
mused  Charleton.  "It's  a  kind  of  mental  stomach-ache 
most  young  fellows  get  about  the  time  they  begin  to  fall 
in  love." 

Douglas  grunted. 

"Though  you  were  pretty  young  to  run  into  Oscar 
that  way,"  Charleton  went  on  thoughtfully. 

"It  isn't  that ;  though  I  was  scared  stiff,  of  course. 
But  it  was  seeing  Oscar  laid  in  the  ground  to  rot  and 
hearing  you  and  Peter  and  Dad  say  that  was  all  there 
was  to  it." 

Charleton  nodded.  "I  know!  But  you'll  reach  my 
state  of  don't  give  a  hoop-la,  when  you're  a  little  older. 
Wine  and  women  and  a  good  horse.  They  help." 

Douglas  drew  a  shuddering  breath.  "Is  that  all  you've 
found  out?  All?" 


THE  GRADUATION  DANCE  61 

"Of  course,  there's  ambition,"  said  Charleton.  "I 
was  ambitious,  myself,  once.  You  know  my  father  was 
a  college  man  and  he  wanted  me  to  go  back  East  to  school. 
I  almost  went." 

"Why  didn't  you  go?"  asked  Douglas,  immensely 
flattered  at  the  mark  of  confidence  being  shown  him. 
Charleton  Falkner  was  notoriously  reticent  about  him 
self. 

"O,  it's  this  easy  life  of  the  open!  Why  should  I  have 
gone  into  politics  as  my  father  wanted  me  to,  when  I 
could  be  happier  with  an  easy  living  right  here?  And 
it  would  all  end  up  there  in  the  cemetery,  anyhow.  And 
what  had  ambition  to  offer  me  in  comparison  to  the 
sport  of  running  wild  horses  on  Fire  Mesa,  or  riding 
herd  in  the  Reserve  or  hunting  deer  on  Falkner's  Peak. 
Horses,  dogs,  guns,  women,  whiskey,  the  open  country 
of  the  Rockies.  Enough  for  any  man." 

"Maybe!"  muttered  Douglas. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  now  you're  through 
school?"  asked  Charleton  abruptly. 

"'Ride  for  Dad.  He's  promised  me  a  herd  of  my  own 
when  I'm  twenty-one." 

"Listen!"  said  Charleton.  "How'd  you  like  to  do  a 
little  business  with  me  once  in  a  while  when  John  can 
spare  you?  You  know,  cattle,  horses  and  such!" 

Douglas  grinned  delightedly.  "Do  you  really  mean 
it?  Why,  you  know,  Charleton,  as  well  as  I  do,  there 
isn't  a  young  rider  in  Lost  Chief  who  wouldn't  give  any 
thing  to  go  out  on  trips  with  you." 

"Fine !  I'll  be  tipping  you  the  wink  one  of  these  days. 
In  the  meantime,  keep  your  mouth  shut  to  every  one  but 
your  father.  Come  in  and  we'll  have  a  drink  on  the 
new  partnership." 

Douglas  had  as  yet  acquired  no  great  taste  for  such 


62       JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

fiery  pollutions  as  the  pail  contained.  But  Charleton 
now  applied  himself  so  strenuously  to  the  business  of 
getting  drunk  that  shortly  he  was  leaning  on  the  phono 
graph  and  reciting  with  powerful  lungs : 

"  'Tis  but  a  tent  where  takes  his  one  day's  rest 
A  Sultan  to  the  realm  of  Death  addrest; 
The  Sultan  rises  and  the  dark  Ferrash 
Strikes  and  prepares  it  for  another  Guect." 

No  one  heeded  him  particularly.  He  smiled  amiably 
at  Peter,  leaned  farther  on  the  machine,  and  said,  "Some 
body  will  have  to  ease  me  to  my  horse,"  then  he  drowsed 
forward  over  the  phonograph.  Douglas  and  Peter, 
laughing,  eased  him  to  his  horse,  and  Charleton,  his 
arms  around  Democrat's  neck,  jogged  slowly  off  on  the 
home  trail. 

June  dawn  was  peering  over  the  Indian  Range  when 
the  party  broke  up.  Scott  disappeared  with  Judith. 
When  John  discovered  this,  he  bolted  after  the  two. 

"You'd  better  go  see  that  nothing  happens,  Doug," 
said  Mary  Spencer.  "John's  drunk  too  much." 

"I'm  going  home,"  declared  Douglas.  "I  got  some 
pride,  and  Judith's  treated  me  like  a  dog  to-night.  She's 
too  fond  of  starting  something  she  don't  know  the 
finish  of." 

Mary  and  he  were  riding  alone  in  the  dawn.  "You 
promised  me  you'd  look  out  for  her.  Don't  you  care 
for  her  any  more,  Douglas?" 

"Yes,  I  do!" 

"Have  you  ever  told  her  so?" 

"She's  too  young." 

"No,  she  isn't,  Douglas.  You  remember  you  told  me 
she  knew  more  than  I  do." 

Douglas  said  nothing;  and  after  a  moment,  his  step- 


THE  GRADUATION  DANCE  63 

mother  said,  hesitatingly,  "Doug,  I  hate  to  see  you  danc 
ing  so  much  with  Inez." 

"What  harm  was  there  in  it?" 

"I  don't  know  that  I  can  tell  you,  Doug.  When  I 
was  a  girl,  going  to  the  log  schoolhouse,  we  girls  never 
thought  of  touching  whiskey.  Our  mothers  would  have 
killed  us  if  we  had." 

"The  world  do  move!"  grunted  Douglas. 

"I  don't  believe  it's  the  world.  Not  from  the  books 
I  read.  I  think  it's  just  Lost  Chief.  The  old  folks  in 
my  day  had  real  influence  in  the  valley.  There  were 
many  like  Grandma  Brown.  But  now !  Why,  your 
father  will  never  be  the  good  influence  his  father  was, 
and  I'd  never  be  like  Grandma.  I  don't  know  why." 

"You  can't  even  train  your  own  daughter,"  said  Doug 
las  with  entire  frankness. 

"Can  the  other  mothers?"  asked  Mary  resentfully. 
"What  can  I  do  when  the  other  mothers  are  so  easy?" 

"It  ain't  exactly  easy."  Douglas  spoke  thoughtfully. 
"The  Lord  knows,  all  the  kids  in  Lost  Chief  work  hard 
enough  and  get  walloped  enough." 

Mary  sighed  deeply.  Douglas  watched  her  face,  so  like 
Judith's  but  bearing  tragic  lines  it  would  have  broken 
his  heart  to  see  around  Judith's  young  lips.  With  un 
wonted  gentleness  he  leaned  over  to  put  his  hand  on 
Mary's  while  he  smiled  at  her  half  sadly. 

"Poor  Mother!  We  are  an  ornery  lot!  But  you  are 
as  good  as  gold,  and  Jude  and  I  both  know  it!" 

Quick  tears  stung  Mary's  gray  eyes.  She  lifted  his 
hand  to  her  cheek  for  a  moment,  then,  as  he  drew  it 
away,  she  tried  to  return  his  smile.  But  nothing  more 
was  said  until  they  reached  home. 

Just  as  they  entered  the  living-room,  Judith  rushed  in. 


64      JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"I  hate  Dad!  I  hate  him!  Scott  and  I  were  jogging 
home  by  way  of  the  west  trail  as  peaceful  as  anything 
when  Dad  has  to  come  along  and  start  a  row  going!" 

"Anybody  hurt?"  asked  Douglas,  watching  Judith  as 
she  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  her  bed,  big  tears  on  her 
cheeks. 

"No,  but  no  thanks  to  Dad !  Scott  turned  round  and 
left  because  I  asked  him  to.  There's  Dad  now!" 

John  clanked  in,  but  before  he  could  speak  Judith 
rose  and  shook  her  forefinger  in  his  face. 

"Now,  Dad,"  she  said  steadily,  "there's  going  to  be 
no  rowing  and  no  cursing.  I'm  sick  of  it!  Right  here 
and  now  I  warn  you  to  stop  interfering  with  me  or  I'll 
leave!" 

John  raised  his  ready  fist. 

"None  of  that!"  Doug's  voice  was  quiet.  "Finish 
what  you  have  to  say,  Jude." 

John  scowled,  breathing  heavily,  his  eyes  never  leaving 
Judith. 

"I'm  sick  of  it,"  she  repeated.  "There  must  be  places 
in  the  world  where  there's  something  beside  family  rows." 

"Are  you  through?"  demanded  John. 

"Yes,  I  am." 

"Then  I've  got  one  thing  to  say.  You  let  Scott 
Parsons  alone."  John  flung  himself  on  the  bed,  and 
before  Mary  had  taken  off  his  spurred  riding  boots  he 
was  asleep. 

Douglas  went  out  to  the  corral  where,  soon  after,  Jud 
ith  appeared  with  her  milking  pail.  The  tender  pink  mists 
rolled  slowly  away  from  the  yellow  wall  of  Lost  Chief 
range.  Judith,  with  heavy  eyes  and  burning  cheeks, 
looked  from  the  mists  to  Douglas,  who  leaned  on  the 
fence  and  watched  her. 


THE  GRADUATION  DANCE  65 

"Jude,"  he  said,  "you  are  on  the  wrong  foot.  You 
ought  to  let  whiskey  and  Inez  Rodman  alone." 

"Why  don't  you  let  'em  alone?"  demanded  Judith. 

"It's  different  with  a  man!" 

"O,  don't  give  me  that  old  stuff!"  cried  the  girl.  "We 
women  do  men's  work  in  this  valley.  We'll  have  the 
men's  kind  of  fun  if  we  want  it!" 

"That's  not  the  point,"  returned  Douglas.  "Women 
have  to  pay  a  price  the  men  don't  and  that's  all  there  is 
to  it." 

"It's  not  fair!  It's  not  fair!  I  hate  the  world?  I 
hate  it!  Looks  like  you'd  either  got  to  be  like  Mother 
or  Inez  Rodman." 

"Your  mother's  all  right.  Only  Dad's  broke  her  just 
like  he  broke  old  Molly  horse." 

"Did  I  ever  say  my  mother  wasn't  all  right?  Only 
I'll  tell  you  one  thing,  Doug  Spencer,  Inez  Rodman's 
given  me  more  sensible  warnings  about  men  than  my 
mother  ever  did." 

Douglas  wore  a  worried  expression.  "Seems  like 
there's  something  wrong  about  that.  Mother  knows  all 
about  those  things."  He  cleared  his  throat. 

The  half  angry  look  on  Judith's  face  gave  way  to  a 
smile. 

"O  Doug !  Doug !  You  old  owl !  What's  the  matter 
with  you  ?  After  all,  it's  good  to  be  alive !  I  wish  I  had 
a  horse  as  good  as  Buster  and  I  wouldn't  ask  for  much 
more  in  life." 

"I'll  give  you  Buster,"  said  Douglas  suddenly. 

Judith's  jaw  dropped.     "Give  me  Buster!" 

"I  mean  it." 

"But — but — why,  Douglas,  what's  happened  to  you?" 

"Judith!"     Douglas  tossed  back  his  yellow  hair  and 


66      JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

put  a  brown  hand  over  Judith's.  "Judith!  I  love  you. 
Won't  you  be  engaged  to  me?" 

"Love  me?"  Judith's  beautiful  gray  eyes  opened  their 
widest.  "Why,  it  doesn't  seem  more  than  yesterday  that 
you  were  calling  me  a  pug-nosed  maverick.  And  besides, 
I'm  only  fifteen  and  you're  only  seventeen." 

"Is  it  Scott?"  asked  Douglas. 

"It  isn't  anybody!  Why,  Douglas,  you  must  be 
crazy !" 

"Do  I  look  crazy?" 

Judith  stared  deep  into  Douglas'  blue  eyes.  "No," 
slowly,  "you  don't." 

"You  can  have  Buster  and  Prince  too,"  said  Douglas. 

"No,  sir,  Doug!  Why,  they're  all  you've  got  in  the 
world!" 

"I  have  that  dapple  gray  Young  Jeff  gave  me  after 
the  trial.  He's  old  enough  to  break  now." 

There  were  tears  in  Judith's  eyes.  "Douglas  Spencer, 
you  are  a  gentleman!  If  I  do  have  a  horse  like  Buster, 
I  can  be  lots  more  help  handling  the  cattle." 

"He's  yours  from  this  minute,"  repeated  Douglas. 
"And  so  am  I  yours.  But  I'm  not  going  to  nag  you 
about  it.  I'm  just  going  to  try  to  look  out  for  you." 

There  was  something  so  sober,  so  gentle,  and  so  de 
termined  about  Douglas  that  for  once  in  her  life  Judith 
was  at  a  loss  for  a  reply.  She  started  slowly  for  the 
cow  shed.  Then  she  turned  back. 

"But  I'm  not  going  to  take  Prince,  Douglas.  That's 
too  much!" 

"Well,"  said  Douglas.  "Maybe  I  will  keep  Prince 
for  a  while.  It'll  be  kind  of  lonesome." 

"Lonesome!"  Judith  repeated  the  phrase  as  though 
it  struck  a  familiar  chord.  "Life  is  lonesome,  isn't  it 
Doug!  Seems  as  though  I  never  dare  to  be  myself  any 


THE  GRADUATION  DANCE  67 

more,  since  Oscar's  death.  That  was  the  first  time  I  ever 
realized  how  lonely  you  can  be." 

Douglas  nodded,  his  eyes  full  of  an  understanding  that 
was  pitiful.  Youth  should  not  be  allowed  to  contem 
plate  this  sort  of  loneliness.  It  is  soul  searing. 

"But  remember,  Judith,"  he  said,  "that  you've  always 
got  me." 

She  gave  him  an  enigmatic  look  and  returned  to  her 
work. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   HOUSE  IN   THE  YELLOW   CANYON 

"Beauty :  to  see  it,  to  hear  it,  to  feel  it :  that's  all  that 
makes  life  worth  while." 

— Inez  Rodman, 

DOUGLAS  was  both  elated  and  dejected  by  his  con 
versation  with  Judith.  He  was  elated  to  feel  that 
at  last  Judith  knew  his  feeling  toward  her.  He  was  de 
jected  because  he  felt  that  she  had  no  understanding  of 
the  depth  and  sincerity  of  this  feeling.  And  with  that 
marvelously  naive  egotism  of  the  male,  he  gave  many 
hours  of  heavy  thought  to  Judith's  weaknesses  and  temp 
tations,  none  at  all  to  his  own.  Perhaps  more  than  any 
thing,  Judith's  friendship  with  Inez  began  to  worry  him. 
The  more  he  pondered  on  it,  the  more  perturbed  he  be 
came;  and  finally,  a  week  or  so  after  the  dance,  he  re 
solved  to  ask  Inez  to  break  with  Judith. 

The  Rodman  house  was  built  against  the  sheer  yellow 
stone  facing  at  the  base  of  Lost  Chief  range,  known  in 
correctly  as  the  Yellow  Canyon.  The  house  of  half  a 
dozen  rooms  was  the  most  picturesque  cabin  in  the  val 
ley,  for  Grandfather  Rodman  had  built  the  roof  with  an 
overhang,  giving  the  house  the  hospitable  shadows  of  a 
little  Swiss  chalet.  There  were  several  hundred  acres 
belonging  to  the  ranch.  Free  range  had  grown  small  be 
fore  Inez'  father  died  and  he  had  gotten  his  ?cres  well 
into  grass  and  alfalfa.  But  when  he  and  Inez'  mother 
were  wiped  out  by  smallpox,  leaving  the  ranch  to  Inez, 

68 


THE  HOUSE  IN  YELLOW  CANYON       69 

the  fields  rapidly  returned  to  the  wild.  Inez,  fifteen  at 
the  time  of  her  parents'  death,  was  unwilling  to  lead  the 
life  of  a  ranch  woman  and  for  ten  years  the  ranch  had 
been  going  to  pieces. 

When  Douglas  rode  up  to  the  outer  corral  in  the 
dusk  of  the  June  evening,  he  was  struck  anew  by  the 
disorder  of  the  place.  Cattle  tramped  freely  about  the 
house.  An  old  steer  was  poking  his  head  in  at  the  kit 
chen  window.  Chickens  roosted  on  a  saddle,  which  was 
flung  in  the  stable  muck.  Tin  cans,  old  wagon  wheels, 
the  ruin  of  a  sheep  wagon,  were  heaped  in  confusion  at 
one  end  of  the  cabin.  Three  or  four  dogs  barked  as 
Doug  rode  up  on  old  Mike.  He  called  Prince  in  and 
looked  inquiringly  at  two  other  horses  tied  to  the  di 
lapidated  corral  fence.  They  were  Beauty,  his  father's 
horse,  and  Yankee,  Peter's  roan. 

As  Doug  sat  hesitating,  John  and  Peter  came  out  of 
the  kitchen  laughing.  They  swung,  spurs  clanking,  up 
to  the  fence. 

"What  the  devil  are  you  doing  here,  Doug?"  asked 
Peter  Knight. 

"Hasn't  he  got  a  right  to  call  on  the  Harlot  of  the 
Canyon?"  demanded  John,  with  a  chuckle.  "Hustle  up, 
Peter!  The  crowd'll  be  there  for  the  game  before  you 
are." 

"They  can't  get  in  till  I  unlock,"  replied  Peter.  "Here, 
John,  take  the  key  and  ride  on.  I  want  to  talk  to  Doug." 

John  caught  the  key  and  trotted  off.  Sister  snarled 
at  Prince,  who  wagged  his  tail  apologetically. 

"Sister's  a  shrew,  all  right,"  grinned  Douglas. 

"She  sure  can  run  coyotes,  though,"  said  Peter. 

"She  and  Grandma  Brown  run  this  valley,"  added 
Douglas. 

Peter  laughed.     "I'm  strong  for  the  ladies!     Did  you 


70      JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

ever  watch  the  moon  rise,  Doug,  from  the  top  of  the 
bench  back  of  the  cabin  there?" 

"No,"  answered  Douglas. 

"Come  on  up !  It's  not  a  long  ride.  I've  been  wanting 
to  make  you  a  proposition  for  some  time." 

Douglas  followed  the  postmaster  silently.  The  horses 
were  panting  and  sweating  by  the  time  they  reached  the 
top,  and  the  rim  of  the  moon  was  just  peering  over  the 
edge  of  the  Indian  Range.  All  the  valley  lay  in  dark 
ness.  The  two  dismounted  and  threw  themselves  down 
on  the  ledge.  Douglas  lighted  a  cigarette  while  Peter 
filled  his  pipe. 

"What  are  you  planning  to  do  with  yourself  now 
you're  through  school,  Douglas?" 

"Ride  for  Dad." 

"How'd  you  like  to  go  East  to  school?" 

"Nothing  doing!  I've  got  more  education  now  than 
I'll  need  as  a  rancher." 

"Well,  I  guess  that's  not  particularly  so,"  said  Peter. 
"I  was  thinking — you  know  I'm  alone  in  the  world — 
that  I  might  help  you  out  if  you  had  any  leaning  toward 
college  or  a  profession." 

"Ranching  is  good  enough  for  me,  thank  you  all  the 
same,  Peter." 

For  some  moments  Peter  did  not  speak  again.  Coy 
otes  wailed  in  the  peaks  above  them.  The  moon  showed 
more  of  its  golden  face. 

"Does  your  father  ever  talk  to  you  about  your  own 
mother,  Doug?" 

"No;  I  quit  asking  him  questions  years  ago.  Peter, 
all  I  know  about  my  mother  is  that  her  name  was  Esther, 
that  the  smallpox  wiped  her  folks  out,  and  that  they 
owned  the  north  half  of  our  ranch.  There's  an  old  photo- 


THE  HOUSE  IN  YELLOW  CANYON       71 

graph  of  her  in  Dad's  bureau  drawer.  She  was  awful 
pretty." 

"She  was  more  than  that,  Doug!  I  knew  her  well. 
You  see,  I'm  the  only  man  in  the  valley  that's  a  stranger, 
as  you  might  say.  I've  only  lived  here  twenty  years. 
So  I  could  appreciate  your  mother  more  than  the  natives. 
I  came  here  a  roundabout  way  from  Boston.  So  did 
your  mother's  folks,  about  forty-five  years  ago.  She 
looked  as  Yankee  as  her  blood,  thin  and  delicate,  with 
a  refined  face.  And  all  the  coarse  work  women  have  to 
do  in  Lost  Chief  didn't  coarsen  her." 

"How  do  you  mean,  coarse  work?"  asked  Doug. 

Dimly  in  the  moonlight  he  saw  the  postmaster  rub 
his  hand  across  his  forehead. 

"Why  don't  you  put  Buster  to  hauling  and  plowing?" 
asked  Peter. 

"Too  light  and  nervous." 

"So  was  your  mother  too  light  and  nervous  for  the 
kind  of  ranch  work  women  have  to  do  here.  Women 
with  blood  and  brains  like  most  of  the  Lost  Chief  women 
are  best  used  to  keep  alive  the  decencies  and  gentler 
things  of  life.  Men  lose  those  things  in  a  cattle  country 
unless  the  women  keep  'em  alive.  If  you  keep  women 
too  close  to  the  details  of  handling  cattle  and  horses,  they 
get  rough  and  coarse  too.  And  I  calculate  that  Lost 
Chief  and  the  world  needs  some  decency  and  delicacy." 

Douglas  pondered  over  this  for  a  long  time,  his  eyes 
on  the  glory  of  the  Indian  peaks.  Then  he  said,  "You 
knew  my  mother  well?" 

"Yes.  I'd  have  married  her,  Doug,  if  she  hadn't 
already  married  your  father.  She — she  was  so  devilishly 
overworked  and  unhappy!  But  she  never  complained. 
Your  father  was  crazy  about  her  but  he  treats  a  woman 


72      JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

like  he  does  a  horse.     He  doesn't  know  any  different." 

t(O,  don't  tell  me  any  more!"  said  Douglas  brokenly. 
"The  poor  little  thing!  Seems  as  if  I  couldn't  stand  it. 
Peter,  I'm  glad  she  died!" 

The  older  man  was  silent  for  a  time,  then  went  on. 
"Your  mother  came  of  good  people.  Her  grandfather 
was  a  friend  of  Emerson's.  Tucked  away  somewhere  she 
had  some  letters  the  two  men  exchanged.  Your  grand 
father  dreamed  dreams  about  establishing  a  new  New 
England  out  here.  Those  letters  should  have  been  saved 
for  you." 

The  radiant  light  now  swept  across  Lost  Chief  creek 
and  to  the  foot  of  the  wall,  drenching  the  Rodman  ranch 
in  beauty  and  mystery.  Sister  crowded  against  her  mas 
ter's  back  and  snored.  Prince  whined  dolefully  as  he 
always  did  at  the  moon. 

"So  taking  one  thing  with  another,"  Peter  Knight 
explained,  "I  thought  I  might  see  if  you  had  anything  in 
your  head  except  horse  wrangling;  whether  you're  as 
much  your  Dad  inside  as  outside." 

"I  don't  see  why  ranching  isn't  a  good  enough  profes 
sion  for  any  one!"  protested  the  boy. 

"In  lots  of  places  it  is.     But  it's  not  in  Lost  Chief." 

"I  don't  see  why,"  repeated  Douglas. 

"It's  awful  hard  here  on  the  women  is  one  reason.  I 
never  heard  your  mother  swear  or  use  a  foul  word,"  said 
Peter.  "I've  been  on  ranches  in  other  places  where  the 
women  would  have  been  shocked  at  the  idea.  How 
about  Judith?" 

"You  know  she  only  curses  like  the  other  women  do 
around  here." 

"Do  you  like  it?"  asked  the  postmaster. 

"I  never  thought  anything  about  it." 

"There  you  are!"  groaned  Peter.     rtlf  I  can  only  make 


73 

you  see!  Doug,  a  woman  lets  down  the  first  bar  when 
she  begins  to  swear  and  drink.  She  begins  where  Judith 
is  beginning.  She's  mighty  apt  to  end  where  Inez  is 
ending.  You  just  think  about  ranching  in  Lost  Chief 
from  your  mother's  point  of  view.  It's  a  rough  kind 
of  a  community,  Douglas,  compared  with  the  same  class 
of  people  in  other  communities.  The  talk  itself  is 
rough;  how  rough  you  can't  appreciate  because  you've 
never  heard  anything  else." 

There  was  another  silence.  Then  Douglas  asked 
heavily :  "Peter,  what  am  I  going  to  do  to  keep  Judith 
from  going  to  Inez  for  advice?" 

"Might  not  be  such  bad  advice!  Inez  has  no  illusions 
about  what  she's  doing  or  what  she's  paying." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  Judith  ought  to  go  there?" 

"No,  I  don't!  But  if  a  kid  like  you  goes  there  him 
self,  how  can  you  preach  to  Judith?  And  she  only  goes 
there  for  the  dancing  and  fun." 

"But  I'm  a  man!" 

"I  don't  care  what  you  are.  You  can't  preach  good 
sermons  with  a  foul  tongue.  You  ought  to  have  the 
nerve  to  look  at  yourself  as  you  are  before  you  try  to 
bring  up  Judith.  Lost  Chief  is  still  fairly  honest.  Even 
your  father  calls  Inez  Rodman  by  her  right  title.  There's 
hope  in  that !" 

"But  what  shall  I  do  about  Judith,  Peter?" 

"Might  make  a  man  of  yourself,  Doug!" 

"What's  the  matter  with  me?"  demanded  Doug,  in 
dignantly. 

"Douglas,  you  haven't  a  clean-cut  idea  to  your  name. 
And  a  kid  of  seventeen  as  self-satisfied  as  you  are  isn't 
worth  baiting  a  coyote  trap  with." 

"There's  not  a  guy  in  the  valley  works  harder  than 
I  do!" 


74    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"Right!     Nor  uses  his  brain  less!" 

"I  suppose  you  mean  I  ought  to  go  to  college  and  let 
Judith  go  to  the  devil." 

"Judith's  pretty  good  stuff,  herself/'  protested  Peter. 
"A  half-baked  kid  like  you  can't  influence  Judith!" 

Douglas  started  to  his  feet.  "By  God,  I  will !  You'll 
see!" 

"There's  only  one  way.  Show  yourself  fit  to  influence 
her.  Don't  get  a  grouch  at  me,  Doug.  I've  come  a  long, 
hard,  lonely  road.  And  all  because  I  thought  everybody 
was  wrong  but  myself.  I  don't  want  your  mother's  son 
to  make  the  same  mistake,  if  I  can  help  it." 

"I'm  the  unhappiest  guy  in  the  world!"  cried  Douglas, 
passionately. 

,He  mounted  his  horse  and,  followed  joyfully  by  Prince, 
turned  down  the  trail.  Peter  did  not  stir.  For  a  long 
time  he  sat  with  his  arm  around  Sister.  The  moon  was 
high  over  the  valley  before  he  said  aloud : 

"O  Esther!  Esther!  The  years  are  long!"  Then 
he  too  mounted  and  rode  away. 

As  Doug  trotted  through  Rodman's  door-yard,  Inez 
crossed  toward  the  corral. 

"Hello,  Doug!  Where've  you  been?  What's  the 
matter  with  Buster?" 

Douglas  drew  up.     "I  gave  him  to  Judith." 

"Why,  you  blank  little  fool!  It  must  have  hurt  you 
deep!" 

"I  guess  Judith's  worth  it !  Say,  Inez,  is  there  any 
thing  I  can  do  for  you  to  get  you  to  keep  Judith  away 
from  here?" 

"I  won't  hurt  her,  Doug." 

"Aw,  Inez,  what's  the  use  of  saying  that!  Make  out 
you're  sore  at  her." 

"I  could,  but  that  won't  do  so  much  for  her.     Judith 


THE  HOUSE  IN  YELLOW  CANYON       75 

ought  to  have  something  to  look  forward  to  beside 
breeding  calves  and  wrangling  firewood  for  some  lazy 
dog  of  a  rancher,  before  she  or  any  other  Lost  Chief 
girl  will  think  keeping  away  from  here  is  worth  while." 

There  was  a  depth  of  bitterness  in  the  woman's  voice 
which  Douglas  felt  rather  than  understood.  He  sat  in 
awkward  silence.  Inez  put  her  hand  on  his  knee  and 
looked  up  at  him.  Her  face  was  tragically  beautiful  in 
the  moonlight. 

"Douglas,  do  you  ever  stop  to  think  how  beautiful 
Lost  Chief  country  is?" 

"Not  often,"  admitted  Doug. 

Inez  went  on.  "Peter  Knight's  been  all  over  the 
United  States  and  he  says  there's  no  place  passes  it  in 
beauty.  Sometimes  when  I  see  the  valley  looking  like 
it  does  to-night,  I  cry.  Doug,  you  are  more  promising 
than  these  other  kids.  When  you  ride  round  on  the 
range  try  to  keep  your  mind  a  little  bit  off  cattle  and 
horses  and  women  and  keep  it  on  that  line  of  the  Forest 
Reserve  the  way  it  looks  to-night.  Or  the  way  this  yel 
low  wall  looks  in  the  snow  and  the  sunrise  on  it.  And 
then,  when  you  get  that  habit,  tell  Judith  about  it  and 
get  her  to  thinking  the  same  way.  Beauty  can't  live  on 
rot,  Douglas.  I  know  that  now.  I  don't  care  what 
Charleton  quotes." 

"Inez,"  asked  Douglas  huskily,  "why  don't  you  burn 
that  old  cabin  up?" 

"It's  too  late,"  replied  Inez  shortly;  and  she  turned 
on  her  heel  and  left  him. 

Douglas  rode  thoughtfully  along  the  home  trail.  He 
was  angry  with  Peter  and  sorry  for  Inez,  and  he  missed 
his  mother  as  he  never  had  missed  her  before.  He  had 
been  only  a  baby  at  the  time  of  her  death.  This  was 
the  first  time  that  he  had  been  told  of  the  type  of  woman 


76      JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

she  was  though  he  had  heard  much  of  his  mother's 
father,  old  Bill  Douglas.  He  w.ent  to  bed  that  night 
with  an  entirely  new  set  of  thoughts. 

The  heaviest  ranch  work  of  the  year  was  now  at  hand. 
The  hay  harvest  was  begun.  From  dawn  until  dusk, 
Doug  and  Judith  worked  in  the  fields  and  tumbled  to 
bed  at  night  as  soon  as  the  chores  were  done.  They 
had  many  opportunities  during  the  day  for  conversa 
tions,  however,  for  after  the  hay  was  raked,  Douglas 
and  Judith  drove  one  rick  team,  John  and  old  Johnny 
Brown  the  other.  Heavy  work  it  certainly  was,  but 
work  of  what  fragrance,  under  skies  of  what  an  unbe 
lievably  deep  blue,  in  air  of  what  tingling  warmth  and 
clearness !  What  unthinkable  distances  were  glimpsed 
from  the  wild  hay  patch  on  the  flank  of  Dead  Line  Peak ! 
It  seemed  to  Douglas,  lying  at  length,  chin  elbow-sup 
ported,  on  the  top  of  the  last  load,  which  Judith  had 
insisted  on  driving,  that  he  never  before  had  sensed  the 
beauty  of  the  haying  season  in  Lost  Chief  Valley.  And 
again  he  seemed  to  see  Inez's  tragic  eyes,  which  had  shed 
tears  over  the  beauty  of  these  very  hills.  He  turned 
the  memory  of  those  eyes  over  in  his  mind  with  a  memory 
of  the  sardonic  twist  of  Charleton's  mouth  as  he  had 
uttered  his  philosophy  of  life,  and  suddenly  Doug  wished 
that  he  dared  to  talk  to  his  father  about  these  things. 
He  had  asked  John  about  the  Emerson  letters  but  John 
professed  never  to  have  heard  of  them.  And  Douglas 
fell  to  wondering  about  his  grandfather's  dream  for  Lost 
Chief. 

They  were  pulling  through  the  swamp  road  above  the 
home  corral.  It  was  heavy  going  and  when  they  reached 
the  shade  of  a  little  clump  of  blue  spruce  and  aspen, 
Judith  pulled  the  team  up  for  a  short  rest.  She  pushed 


THE  HOUSE  IN  YELLOW  CANYON       77 

her  broad  straw  hat  back  from  her  face  and  half  turned 
to  look  at  Douglas. 

"Have  you  seen  that  new  litter  of  pups  of  Sister's?" 
she  asked  Douglas. 

He  shook  his  head  and  Judith  went  on.  "Peter  says 
I  can  have  the  pick  of  the  lot,  but  there's  only  one  I'd 
look  at.  He's  the  image  of  Sister.  I'm  going  to  train 
him  so's  I  can  take  him  out  to  run  wild  horses  with  me 
when  he  grows  up." 

"Wild  horses!  The  last  time  it  \vas  bronco  busting 
you  were  going  into.  What's  it  all  about,  anvhow, 
Jude?" 

"You  don't  suppose  I'm  going  to  spend  my  life  in 
Lost  Chief,  do  you?''  demanded  Judith. 

Douglas  swept  the  landscape  with  a  lazy  glance.  "I 
don't  see  how  you  could  beat  it." 

"O,  for  looks  and  stunts,  yes!"  Judith's  voice  was 
impatient.  "But  it's  no  place  for  a  woman !  I'm  going 
to  earn  enough  money  to  take  me  out  where  I  can  go 
on  with  my  education  and  amount  to  something." 

"I  guess  Peter's  been  talking  to  you,"  said  Douglas. 

Judith  ncidded.  "Yes,  and  he  offered  to  loan  me  the 
money  for  college.  But  I  won't  be  beholden  to  a  man 
outside  the  family.  I'll  earn  it  myself." 

"What'll  you  do  with  a  college  education  after  you  get 
it?"  Doug's  glance  was  not  lazy  now,  as  it  rested  on 
the  young  girl's  eager  face. 

"I'll  do  something  beside  cooking  anl  horse  wrangling 
for  some  old  Lost  Chief  rancher,  I  can  tell  you  that!" 
cried  Judith.  "I'm  going  to  get  out  and  see  the  world 
and  know  life!" 

"And  give  up  your  horses  and  dogs  and  the  big  old 
mountains?  Jude,  you'll  never  do  it.  I'd  like  to  get 


78      JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

out  myself  sometimes,  but  I  know  I'll  never  be  happy 
anywhere  else." 

"I  don't  expect  to  be  happy,  but  I've  got  to  know 
things." 

"What  things,  Judith?" 

The  girl  turned  from  Douglas  to  gaze  at  the  far  light 
on  Fire  Mesa. 

"The  truth  about  things,"  she  said  at  last.  "Inez  says 
there's  just  one  big  fact  at  the  bottom  of  everything  and 
that  is  sex,  and  that  there's  only  one  thing  worth  living 
for,  to  make  sex  beautiful." 

"She's  a  liar!"  exclaimed  Douglas  indignantly,  as  if 
Inez  had  said  something  shameful.  "Where  does  she 
get  that  rotten  stuff?" 

"From  Charleton  and  poetry,  I  guess.  How  do  you 
know  she's  wrong,  Doug?" 

Douglas  sat  up,  his  clear  eyes  blazing  like  blue  stars 
out  of  his  sunburned  face.  "Because  I  know !  I  want 
to  have  the  biggest,  finest  ranch  in  the  Rockies.  Is  that 
sex?  You  want  a  good  education.  Is  that  sex?  Peter 
wants  me  to  carry  on  some  dreams  my  mother  and  grand 
father  had.  Is  that  sex?  WThat  does  that  woman  think 
the  world  was  made  for,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

"That's  just  it,"  Judith  sighed  with  all  the  sadness  of 
sixteen,  "what  is  it  made  for?" 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment  on  the  hay  rick  while 
the  two  young  questioners  gazed  at  the  incomparable 
grandeur  about  them.  And  as  he  gazed  there  returned 
to  Douglas  the  sense  of  panic  that  had  harassed  him 
after  Oscar's  death.  What  did  it  all  mean?  Whither 
was  he  directed  and  by  what?  How  long  before  he 
too  would  be  swept  into  the  awful  void  beyond  the 
grave? 


THE  HOUSE  IN  YELLOW  CANYON       79 

"That's  what  religion  did  for  folks  all  these  years," 
he  said  suddenly.  "They  never  asked  these  questions, 
I'll  bet.  I  wish  I  had  it." 

"I  don't  want  to  believe  fairy  tales  just  because  I'm 
scared!"  Judith  tossed  her  head  stoutly. 

"I  don't  either,"  agreed  Douglas  dejectedly. 

"I'm  going  to  drive  on  home  and  get  something  to 
eat,"  said  Judith,  lifting  the  reins.  "Food's  the  only 
thing  that'll  rid  me  of  the  dumb  horrors." 

Douglas  settled  back  against  the  hay,  and  the  rest  of 
the  ride  was  continued  in  silence. 

Old  Johnny  Brown  stayed  on  for  a  day  or  so  to  clean 
up  odd  jobs  neglected  during  the  haying  season.  He 
was  a  gentle,  timid  little  chap,  the  butt  of  the  entire 
valley,  of  course,  and  particularly  of  John  Spencer. 
Douglas  often  wondered  why  old  Johnny  consented  to 
work  each  year  at  this  season  for  his  father.  This 
wonderment  was  solved  the  day  after  Doug's  and  Jude's 
conversation  on  the  load  of  hay  and  in  a  manner  destined 
in  a  small  way  to  have  its  influence  on  Douglas'  affairs 
in  the  years  to  come. 

Just  before  supper  Judith  returned  from  the  post-office 
and  rushed  into  the  kitchen  with  a  huge,  long-legged,  ugly 
puppy  in  her  arms.  She  set  him  on  the  floor  where  his 
four  knotty  legs  pointed  in  four  different  directions  and 
where  his  long  back  sagged  like  the  letter  U.  He  was 
covered  with  rough  gray  hair  and  his  eyes  were  huge 
and  brown. 

"Isn't  he  a  perfect  lamb?  He's  mine!"  cried  Judith, 
squatting  beside  him. 

"Oh!  A  lamb!"  grunted  John,  who  was  combing  his 
hair  at  the  wash-basin  in  the  corner.  "I  thought  it  was 
a  buffalo  calf." 


8o      JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"Don't  be  stupid!"  cried  Judith.  "Of  course,  you're 
no  judge  of  dogs,  but  Peter  says  he's  just  like  Sister 
was  at  two  months,  only  bigger." 

Mary  Spencer  looked  him  over  critically,  coffee-pot  in 
hand.  "Isn't  he  awful  homely,  even  for  a  mongrel, 
Judith?"  she  asked. 

"Mongrel!  What  is  the  matter  with  all  you  folks?" 
exclaimed  Judith.  "He's  no  more  mongrel  than  anybody 
else!  Come  here  to  your  missis,  you  precious!"  and  she 
gathered  the  great  pup  into  her  lap,  where  he  sat  com 
placently,  his  legs  in  a  hopeless  tangle. 

"What's  his  name?"  asked  old  Johnny,  mildly. 

"Wolf  Cub.  And  you  wait  till  I'm  through  with 
him!  You'll  see  the  best  trained  dog  in  the  valley,  like 
Sioux  will  be  the  best  trained  bull  and  Buster  the  best 
trained  horse.  O,  look,  Doug!"  as  Douglas  came  in. 
"See  what  I've  got!" 

"I  dare  you  to  name  its  pedigree,  Doug!""  chuckled 
John. 

Douglas  lifted  the  pup  to  the  floor  and  ran  his  hands 
over  its  skull,  along  its  back,  and  down  its  erratic  legs. 
"Some  dog,  Judith!  You'll  have  to  muzzle  him  by  the 
time  he's  six  months  old." 

Judith  smiled  triumphantly.  "No,  I  won't!  Wait 
till  you  see  how  I  train  him." 

"You  get  that  from  your  mother,  Judith.  She  was 
always  gregus  smart  with  critters,"  said  old  Johnny. 

Judith  laughed  skeptically.  "She  was!"  The  little 
ol-d  man  nodded  his  head.  "I  remember.  I  deponed 
that  same  thing  to  Peter  the  other  day.  How  Mary 
could  break  anything  when  she  was  a  girl,  like  you." 

"Well,  but  Mother  won't  touch  anything  that  isn't 
broke  now!"  exclaimed  Judith. 


THE  HOUSE  IN  YELLOW  CANYON       81 

"Just  what  I  deponed,"  nodded  Johnny.  "John  broke 
her  just  like  he  broke  old  Molly  horse,  so  she  lost  her 
nerve.  I  deponed  just  that.  An  awful  rough  breaker. 
I  deponed  just  that." 

"O  dry  up,  Johnny !"  grunted  John,  drawing  his  chair 
up  to  the  table.  "I've  put  up  with  an  awful  lot  of  drool 
from  you,  and  I'm  getting  sick  of  it." 

Old  Johnny  was  always  most  explanatory  when  he  was 
most  frightened.  "I  wasn't  drooling,  John.  I  was  just 
deponing.  Any  one  can  do  that,  can't  they?  And 
Mary  did  used  to  be  like  Judith." 

"Will  you  shut  up!"  shouted  John. 

The  puppy,  startled,  gave  a  sudden  loud  howl. 

"Put  that  thing  out  and  come  to  supper,  Jude!  If  he 
howls  to-night,  I'll  shoot  him."  Judith  left  the  house 
indignantly. 

"No,  you  won't,  Dad,"  said  Douglas  quietly,  as  he 
buttered  a  biscuit. 

"If  you're  going  to  give  me  back  talk,  young  fellow, 
you  leave  the  table  now,  before  I  lose  my  temper." 

"I'm  not  giving  you  any  more  back  talk  than  you 
deserve,"  replied  Douglas.  "Any  man  that  would 
threaten  to  shoot  a  pup  because  it  howls  deserves  some 
thing  more  than  back  talk.  Let's  forget  it.  Johnny, 
how  about  this  stunt  of  Mother's  breaking  horses?" 

Old  Johnny  gave  John  a  timid  glance.  "I  dcii'; 
remember,"  he  muttered. 

Mary  laughed.  "What's  the  use  of  a  woman  break 
ing  horses  when  she's  got  a  man  to  do  it  for  her?" 

"Did  you  ever  see  her  break  a  horse,  Johnny?"  insisted 
Doug. 

"Once,"  said  the  old  man,  "a  lot  of  the  boys  tied  me 
on  a  mule  and  the  mule  ran  away.  It  wasn't  broke,  that 


82       JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

mule.  Seem  like  it  had  run  a  gregus  long  way  when 
Mary  come  along.  She  was  just  a  walking  and  she 
reached  up  and  grabbed  the  mule  and  she  rode  him  back 
with  me.  And  she  made  them  untie  me.  And  I  loved 
her  ever  since.  I  came  up  here  every  year  to  see  how 
John  is  treating  her.  I  depone — " 

John  rose  and,  striding  around  the  table,  he  seized 
the  old  man  by  the  collar.  Douglas  put  his  hand  on  his 
father's  arm. 

"Drop  it,  Dad,  or  I  swear  I'll  think  old  Johnny  is  a 
better  man  than  you.  I  asked  him  to  tell.  Throw  me 
out  if  you  want  to.  Keep  your  hands  off  this  little 
chap.  One  thing  is  sure.  He  appreciates  Mother  more 
than  any  of  the  rest  of  us  have." 

"Get  the  half-wit  out  of  my  sight,  then,"  growled 
John,  returning  to  his  seat. 

"I  wish  a  lot  of  folks  with  whole  wits  knew  how  to 
be  as  good  a  friend  as  Johnny,"  said  Douglas  stoutly. 

"So  do  I !"  Mary's  voice  trembled,  but  her  glance 
at  the  little  old  man  was  very  lovely. 

The  rest  of  the  meal  was  finished  in  silence,  Douglas 
turning  over  in  his  mind  this  strange  new  picture  of 
Judith's  mother.  Could  anything,  he  wondered,  change 
Judith  so?  A  curious  anger  against  his  father's  stupid 
ity  was  at  that  moment  born  in  Douglas'  heart,  an  anger 
that  never  was  wholly  to  leave  him. 

That  evening,  as  Douglas  sat  in  his  favorite  place  be- 
sfde  the  alfalfa  stack,  old  Johnny  led  up  his  little  gray 
mare. 

"I'll  be  cowling  myself  along  home  now,  Doug,"  he 
said.  "John  is  awful  insidious  to  me.  I  just  want  to 
say,  Doug,  that  you're  the  first  man  in  this  valley  ever 
stuck  up  for  me  and  some  day  I  depone  I'll  get  even 
with  you." 


THE  HOUSE  IN  YELLOW  CANYON     83 

"Good  for  you,  Johnny!"  nodded  Douglas.  "When  I 
get  my  old  ranch  going,  you  come  up  and  work  for  me." 

"I  will  so  do,"  replied  the  old  man  solemnly,  and  he 
rode  away  in  the  moonlight. 

And  Douglas  returrued  to  the  new  theme  old  Johnny 
had  given  him.  Of  what  were  women  made  that  they 
could  be  over-broken  as  his  father  had  over-broken 
Mary?  And  why  should  Lost  Chief,  so  small  that  con 
trol  was  simple,  permit  such  a  thing  to  be? 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  HUNT  ON  LOST  CHIEF 

"A  guy  that  don't  rustle  cattle  when  the  rustling  is 
good,  is  a  fool." 

— Scott  Parsons. 

ONE  hot  afternoon  in  August  Douglas  had  just  un 
hitched  the  panting  team  from  the  plow  in  the  new 
oat  field  when  Charleton  Falkner  trotted  up  on  Democrat. 

"How's  the  fall  plowing,  Doug?" 

"Just  out  of  the  woods,  Charleton." 

"Your  father  says  he  can  spare  you  for  a  day  or  two. 
I  wish  you'd  come  down  to  my  place  to-night.  I'm  plan 
ning  a  trip.  I  don't  suppose  John  would  loan  you  Beauty 
for  a  couple  of  days?" 

Douglas  shook  his  head. 

"Well,"  Charleton  went  on,  "I  guess  Buster  can  stand 
up  under  the  work." 

"Buster  belongs  to  Judith  now.  I've  been  trying  to 
get  time  to  break  that  dapple  gray  Young  Jell  gave  me, 
after  the  trial.  He's  a  good  horse.  Darned  if  I  don't 
think  I  can  ride  him  now!'' 

"I  know  that  horse  and  he  is  a  good  one,"  agreed 
Charleton.  "Ride  the  young  moose  if  you  can  stick  on 
him.  You'll  need  all  his  wind  and  limb  on  this  trip!'' 
and  Charleton  trotted  away. 

It  was  full  starlight  that  night  when  Douglas  freed 
his  feet  from  the  stirrups  before  Charleton's  door  and 
jumped  like  lightning  from  the  saddle.  His  horse 

84 


.THE  HUNT  ON  LOST  CHIEF  85 

jumped  with  him,  landing  in  the  kitchen  as  Douglas 
brought  up  against  the  door-jamb.  There  was  a  roar 
of  laughter  from  within,  and  as  the  horse  lunged  back 
ward  out  of  the  door,  Charleton  appeared. 

"So  you  and  the  moose  are  here !  Better  hobble  him, 
Doug!" 

Douglas  laughed  and  tied  the  rearing  horse  to  a  hay 
rack.  Then  he  followed  Charleton  into  the  kitchen. 
Scott  Parsons  was  sitting  by  the  table,  hat  on  the  back 
of  his  head,  spurred  boots  on  the  cold  stove  hearth. 
Mrs.  Falkner  was  just  finishing  the  supper  dishes.  She 
greeted  Douglas  with  a  tired  smile. 

Douglas,  with  a  resentful  glance  at  Scott,  shifted  his 
gun  belt,  shoved  his  own  hat  to  the  back  of  his  head, 
and  sat  down.  Mrs.  Falkner  pitched  the  dish  water  out 
the  back  door  and  went  into  the  next  room. 

"WeJl,  fellows," -said  Charleton  cheerfully,  as  he  tipped 
back  his  chair  and  established  his  spurs  beside  Scott's, 
"there's  a  neat  little  job  on  the  horizon.  You  both  know 
the  big  canyon  beyond  Lost  Chief  Peak,  that  has  the 
little  creek  that  disappears  under  the  range?" 

The  young  men  nodded,  and  Charleton  continued. 

"A  Mormon  named  Elijah  Nelson  has  settled  there. 
I'm  not  certain  of  all  he  intends  to  do  but  I  know  this 
much :  He's  to  homestead  that  canyon  up  there  and  hog 
the  water  rights  on  the  creek.  He's  to  be  followed  by 
nine  other  Mormon  families.  Some  of  'em  are  going  to 
raise  cattle  in  the  canyon.  Some  of  'em  are  going  into 
the  sheep  business  in  the  plains  country  beyond  the  can 
yon,  where  we  Lost  Creek  folks  have  been  in  the  habit  of 
wintering  our  herd  when  the  snow's  too  deep  here. 
Some  of  us  older  Lost  Chief  men  realize  that  these  folks 
are  the  beginning  of  a  march  of  Mormons  up  from  Utah 
to  run  us  Lost  Chief  folks  out.  And  we're  going  to 


86    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

harry  them  till  they  are  sick  of  living.  Mormons  and 
sheep  must  keep  out  of  this  country." 

Douglas'  eyes  burned  and  his  breath  came  quickly. 
Scott's  hard  young  eyes  did  not  flicker. 

"We're  going  to  ride  over  the  range  to-morrow  night 
and  the  next  morning  gather  up  what  we  can  of  Nelson's 
herd  that's  grazing  on  Lost  Chief.  We'll  bring  'em  to  a 
certain  place  I  know  of.  I'll  divide  half  to  me,  the 
other  half  to  you* two.  Are  you  game?" 

"I  sure  am,"  said  Scott.  "How  many  do  you  think 
we  can  gather  in?" 

"Not  so  many  on  one  trip.  Perhaps  fifteen  if  we 
have  good  luck.  A  big  herd  leaves  a  big  trail." 

"There's  an  old  corral  up  near  the  Government  ele 
vation  monument,"  said  Douglas.  "It's  all  overgrown 
with  bushes  and  young  aspens  so's  I  don't  think  one 
person  out  of  twenty,  knows  it's  there.  Maybe  we  could 
corral  'em  there?" 

Charleton  gave  Douglas  a  quick  glance.  "How'd  you 
come  to  know  about  it  ?" 

"I  happened  on  it  last  summer  tracking  a  bear." 

"That's  what  I  planned  to  use,"  nodded  Charleton. 
"We'll  make  a  real  cowman  out  of  you  yet.  So  you're 
ready  to  go,  Doug?" 

Douglas'  eyes  were  blazing.  "Go !  You  couldn't  pay 
me  enough  to  keep  me  away !  Nothing  ever  happens  in 
this  old  valley." 

"All  right !  Be  here  by  nine  o'clock  to-morrow  night, 
wearing  chaps.  It'll  be  rough  riding  and  that  Moose  of 
yours  will  be  quite  considerably  broke  by  the  time  we  get 
back,  Doug.  I'll  supply  the  grub." 

"Fine!"  said  Scott,  rising.  "If  that's  all,  I'll  be  run 
ning  along.  Stage  was  late  to-night  and  the  crowd'll  be 
there  getting  mail.  I'll  be  with  you  on  time,  Charleton." 


THE  HUNT  ON  LOST  CHIEF  87 

"Me  too!"  exclaimed  Douglas,  following  Scott. 

Weary  as  he  was,  Douglas  was  long  in  getting  to  sleep 
that  night.  Charleton  Falkner  was  deeply  admired  by 
all  the  young  men  of  Lost  Chief.  Not  only  was  he  of 
the  ultra-sophisticated  type,  dear  to  adolescence,  not  only 
was  he  by  far  the  cleverest  hunter  in  the  valley,  but,  most 
important  of  all,  his  name  was  whispered  in  connection 
with  horse  and  cattle  deals,  never  called  questionable  by 
Lost  Chief  but  always  mentioned  with  a  wink  and  a 
chuckle  for  their  adroitness.  To  have  been  asked  by 
Charleton  to  go  as  a  partner  on  one  of  his  mysterious 
trips  was  intoxicating  enough  to  take  the  sting  out  of 
the  fact  that  Scott  met  Judith  that  evening  at  the 
post-office  and  rode  home  with  her. 

The  next  day  Judith  several  times  tried  to  discover 
where  Doug  was  going  and  with  whom. 

"Don't  you  try  tagging  me  again,  like  you  did  on  the 
trip  to  the  half-way  house,"  he  said  with  a  warning 
grin,  when  they  were  finishing  the  evening  chores 
together. 

"No  danger!  I  got  a  date  of  my  own!"  This  with 
a  toss  of  her  curly  head. 

"Who  with?"  " 

"Don't  you  wish  you  knew!  Other  folks  beside  you 
can  have  interesting  deals,  Mr.  Douglas  Spencer!" 

"Huh!     Some   little   stunt   with   Maud,    I    suppose." 

"No,  it  isn't  either.  Say,  Doug,  did  you  know  Maud 
is  going  up  to  Mountain  City  to  stay  with  her  aunt  and 
go  to  school  there?" 

"I  suppose  that's  what  you'd  like  to  do?"  Doug 
watched  the  eager  face  closely. 

"Well,  not  just  now,"  replied  Judith  with  a  little  grin. 
"I  want  to  keep  my  date,  first." 

"Well,  don't  get  into  mischief,  daughter;  that's  all  I 


88    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

have  to  say  about  your  mysterious  deal,"  said  Douglas 
paternally. 

Judith  laughed  and  carried  her  pail  of  milk  into  the 
kitchen. 

It  was  after  ten  o'clock  that  night  when  Charleton  led 
his  two  young  henchman  along  the  west  trail,  past  Rod 
man's  and  up  the  canyon  toward  the  first  shoulder  of 
Lost  Chief  Peak.  The  Moose  did  not  approve  of  the 
trip.  He  showed  his  disapproval  by  plunging  and  side 
jumping  with  nerve-racking  persistency.  Ginger  and 
Democrat  gave  him  ample  turning  room,  biting  or  kick 
ing  him  if  he  drew  too  near  them.  Midway  in  the 
canyon  Charleton  left  the  trail  and  turned  abruptly  to 
the  left,  up  the  sheer  shoulder  of  the  mountain. 

"Need  a  hazer,  Doug?"  he  called. 

"Where  are  you  going  to  camp,  Charleton?"  laughed 
Douglas,  as  the  Moose  refused  the  trail. 

"On  the  west  shoulder  of  the  peak,  just  under  the 
elevation  monument." 

"I'll  find  you  there.     I  may  be  delayed  for  a  while!" 

Charleton  laughed  too.  "Just  so  you  get  there  by 
dawn!"  he  called;  and  Douglas  saw  the  two  figures,  dim 
in  the  starlight,  move  upward  on  the  barren  shoulder  of 
the  mountain.  He  allowed  the  Moose  to  circle  for  a 
moment,  then  he  drove  the  rowells  deep.  The  snorting 
horse  leaped  up  the  steep  incline,  at  a  pace  that  shortly 
left  him  groaning  for  breath.  But  Douglas  spurred  him 
relentlessly  to  the  far  tree  line.  Here  he  permitted  him 
to  breathe  while  he  listened  to  the  receding  thud  of  hoofs 
above. 

When  his  horse  had  ceased  to  groan,  Douglas  turned 
him  toward  the  dark  shadow  of  the  forest.  The  Moose 
reared  and  turned,  falling  heavily.  Doug  was  out  of  the 
saddle  when  it  cracked  against  the  gravel  and  in  it  when 


THE  HUNT  ON  LOST  CHIEF  89 

the  trembling  horse  rolled  to  his  feet.  Doug  brought 
the  knotted  reins  smartly  across  the  animal's  reeking 
flanks. 

The  Moose  bolted.  Doug  laughed  and  swore  and  for 
a  time  made  no  effort  to  guide  his  mount.  The  Moose 
leaped  fallen  trunks  and  low  bushes.  He  jumped  black 
abysses.  He  thrashed  into  trees  and  rocks.  But  he 
could  not  dislodge  the  figure  that  clung  to  his  back  with 
knee  and  spur.  Douglas  did  not  know  how  long  this  mad 
fight  lasted,  but  he  was  beginning  to  be  exhausted,  him 
self,  when  the  Moose  stopped  on  the  edge  of  a  black  drop. 
The  horse  was  shaking  and  groaning. 

"Now  listen  here,  you  Moose,"  said  Douglas.  "If  you 
expect  to  be  friends  with  me,  you've  got  to  begin  to 
show  some  interest  in  me.  I  sure  do  admire  your  speed 
and  your  nerve.  You're  a  better  horse  than  Buster,  and 
I  don't  want  to  break  you  more  than  I  have  to.  But 
how  about  showing  interest  in  me?  I'm  here  to  stay, 
you  know,  so  you  might  as  well  begin  to  put  me  in  your 
calculations.  Now,  just  to  show  you're  a  changed  horse, 
suppose  you  push  up  here  to  the  right.  I  think  there's 
a  clear  space  there  where  I  can  see  the  stars  and  locate 
ourselves. 

The  Moose  turned  slowly  under  the  rein,  and  carried 
Doug  cleverly  into  an  open  park.  Here  Doug  studied 
the  brilliant  heavens. 

"We'll  just  move  south,  old  Moose,"  he  announced, 
"climbing  uphill  all  the  time,  till  we  run  into  something." 

The  Moose  worked  steadily  enough  now,  but  it  seemed 
a  long  time  to  Douglas  before  he  saw  the  faint  glare  of 
a  fire  through  the  trees.  Charleton  and  Scott  looked  up 
grinning  as  he  rode  into  the  circle  of  light.  Wide  bare 
patches  showed  on  Doug's  chaps.  One  sleeve  of  his 
flannel  shirt  was  hanging  by  a  thread.  His  face  was 


go    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

bleeding  from  many  scratches,  but  he  grinned  amicably 
as  he  slid  wearily  from  the  saddle. 

"Hello,  Doug!  Is  your  horse  broke  yet?"  asked 
Charleton. 

"Some,"  replied  Douglas. 

"We  thought  we  heard  you  a  while  back !"  said  Scott. 
"Sounded  as  if  a  grizzly  had  been  bitten  by  a  hydropho 
bia  skunk." 

"He  ain't  as  nervous  as  he  was,"  grinned  Douglas. 
"Anything  to  drink?" 

Charleton  indicated  the  coffee-pot  and  said,  "It's  only 
a  short  time  to  dawn.  Better  get  what  sleep  you  can!" 

Douglas  nodded,  drank  a  tin  cup  of  coffee,  and  then 
unsaddled  the  Moose.  Scott,  rolled  in  his  blanket, 
watched  him  with  a  twisted  grin. 

"Some  horse  to  take  on  a  trip  like  this,"  he  said.  "A 
half-brbke  mule  couldn't  be  worse.  Funny  if  Doug  don't 
gum  the  whole  game  for  us,  Charleton." 

"You  go  to  hell,   Scott!"   grunted  Douglas. 

Scott  sat  up  with  a  jerk.  Charleton  spoke  sharply. 
"No  scrapping!  You  two  get  to  sleep!" 

Scott  lay  down  reluctantly.  Doug  shrugged  his  broad 
shoulders,  and  shortly,  head  in  his  saddle,  feet  to  the 
fire,  he  was  fast  asleep. 

The  trees  were  black  against  gray  light  when  Charle 
ton  called  the  two  young  riders. 

"Let's  eat  and  be  off,"  he  said  briefly. 

Breakfast  was  a  short  affair  of  bread,  bacon  and  coffee. 
While  they  were  bolting  it,  Charleton  outlined  the  cam 
paign. 

"You'll  see  Nelson's  cattle  have  been  all  through  here. 
No  one  else  grazes  hereabouts.  Don't  rope  any  cows 
with  calves  following  'em.  They  make  too  much  bellow 
ing.  Get  what  steers  you  can  by  mid-morning  into  the 


THE  HUNT  ON  LOST  CHIEF  91 

old  corral.  There  isn't  one  chance  in  a  thousand  we'll 
meet  any  one.  Nelson's  making  hay  five  miles  below 
here.  But  if  any  one  should  come  along  when  you've 
roped  a  steer,  get  him  to  examine  the  brand  for  you,  and 
of  course  if  the  brand  isn't  yours,  let  the  critter  go." 

"Where  is  the  old  corral  from  here?"  asked  Scott. 

"Show  him,   Doug,"  ordered  Charleton. 

The  camp  had  been  made  just  within  the  tree  line 
below  the  peak.  Above,  against  the  glowing  pink  of 
the  heavens,  was  etched  the  suave  line  of  the  peak  and 
topping  this  a  heap  of  rocks,  surmounted  by  a  staff. 
West  of  the  staff  and  below  it  projected  the  top  of  a  dead 
spruce  on  which  sat  an  eagle.  To  this  Douglas  pointed. 

"Down  the  mountain  on  a  line  with  the  staff  and  the 
dead  spruce  in  a  thick  clump  of  young  aspen,  about  an 
acre  of  it.  The  old  corral  is  there." 

Scott  nodded.  They  broke  camp  at  once  and  trotted 
off,  each  one  for  himself.  The  Moose  was  not  yet  a 
cow-pony,  but,  from  Doug's  viewpoint  at  least,  he  was 
now  quite  manageable.  Any  one  in  Lost  Chief  could 
rope  a  steer  from  a  well-trained  horse.  Douglas  pro 
posed  to  repay  Scott's  sneer  by  bringing  in  on  his  half- 
broken  mount  as  many  animals  as  either  of  his  com 
panions  on  their  seasoned  cow-ponies.  And  although 
Doug  risked  his  life  a  hundred  times,  four  of  the  dozen 
fat  steers  that  were  milling  about  in  the  old  corral  by 
nine  o'clock  had  been  dragged  in  by  the  snorting,  trem 
bling  Moose. 

When  Doug  closed  the  bars  on  his  fourth  steer,  he 
waited  for  a  short  time  for  Charleton  and  Scott,  but 
as  neither  appeared,  he  set  off  after  another  brute.  He 
had  ridden  a  good  mile  from  the  corral  when  he  heard 
the  bellow  of  a  bull  and  a  shout  from  Charleton.  He 
spurred  the  Moose  in  the  direction  of  the  cry.  Democrat 


92       JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

was  standing  with  the  reins  over  his  head.  Under  a 
giant  pine  close  by,  Charleton  was  clinging  desperately 
to  the  horns  of  a  red  bull.  Blood  was  running  over  the 
back  of  his  gray  shirt.  The  bull  was  stamping  in  a 
circle  in  the  vain  attempt  to  trample  his  victim. 

"Don't  shoot!"  gasped  Charleton.  "Rope  his  hind 
legs  and  throw  him!  By  God,  I'll  keep  him  now!" 

Twice  Doug's  lariat  darted  through  the  air  before 
the  loop  caught.  But  the  third  attempt  was  successful 
and  he  raced  the  half-maddened  Moose  away  and  jerked 
the  bull  off  his  feet.  Charleton  rolled  to  his  own  lariat 
lying  on  the  ground  near  Democrat.  He  grasped  the 
rope,  rose  to  his  knees  and  twirled  it.  It  twisted  about 
the  bull's  mighty  neck.  Charleton  sank  back  to  a  sitting 
position  and  pulled  the  rope  taut. 

"Dismount  and  come  up  on  him,  Doug,  and  hog  tie 
him  "  he  panted. 

Douglas  obeyed,  and  shortly  the  bull  was  helpless 
although  he  continued  to  bellow  threateningly. 

"He'll  have  Nelson  up  here  even  if  he  is  five  miles 
off,"  said  Douglas  anxiously.  "Better  let  him  go." 

"Take  a  look  at  my  ankle,  Doug,"  ordered  Charleton. 
"If  it's  nothing  worse  than  a  sprain,  I'm  in  luck." 

With  many  oaths  on  the  part  of  Charleton,  the  high 
riding-boot  was  worked  off,  disclosing  an  ankle  already 
puffed  and  discolored. 

"A  sprain!  Well,  I  can  sit  Democrat  with  that. 
Now  take  a  look  at  my  shoulder." 

Doug  turned  back  the  bloody  shirt.  The  bull's  horn 
had  grazed  the  shoulder  but  not  deeply.  Doug  tied  the 
wound  up  with  Charleton's  neckerchief.  He  had  just 
finished  and  was  beginning  with  his  own  scarf  on  the 
ankle  when  Scott  galloped  up. 

"Say,  you  can  hear  that  bull  for  a  thousand  miles! 


THE  HUNT  ON  LOST  CHIEF  93 

What  the  devil  are  you  up  to  ?  I  want  you  both  to  come 
and  help  me  get  three  I've  roped  down  the  draw  a  couple 
of  miles  below  here." 

Douglas  explained  the  accident. 

"My  gawd,  Charleton,  don't  you  know  enough  not 
to  tackle  a  bull  on  foot?" 

"How'd  I  know  there  was  a  bull  around?"  retorted 
the  wounded  man.  "I  dropped  my  rope  and  when  I 
dismounted  to  pick  it  up,  he  came  after  me  like  a  Kansas 
cyclone." 

"Well,  I'll  take  the  bull  to  the  corral  and  come  back 
here  for  grub  if  Douglas  will  fix  it  up.  We  will  put 
plenty  of  whiskey  and  hot  coffee  in  you,  Charleton. 
Do  you  think  you  can  get  home,  while  Doug  and  I  ride 
herd?" 

"I  sure  can!  Go  ahead,  Scott.  You'd  better  blind 
the  bull." 

Scott  nodded,  and  picking  up  several  handsful  of  dry 
dirt,  he  threw  them  into  the  bull's  wide,  bloodshot  eyes. 
The  animal  snorted  and  tossed  his  head.  Scott  con 
tinued  with  handful  after  handful  until  the  bull's  eyes 
were  only  muddy  blanks  under  his  tossing  forehead. 
His  bellowing  ceased.  Then  Scott  removed  the  ropes 
from  his  hind  legs  and,  mounting,  led  him  away.  The 
bull  was  silent  and  entirely  occupied  in  attempting  to 
rub  the  dirt  out  of  his  streaming  eyes. 

"Make  it  as  quick  as  you  can,  Scott,"  called  Charleton. 
Then  to  Douglas,  "Get  busy  with  the  whiskey  and  coffee, 
Doug.  He  ought  to  be  back  by  the  time  you've  fixed 
up  a  snack." 

But  Scott  was  long  in  returning. 

"Oughtn't  he  to  be  back?"  asked  Doug,  when  the 
bacon  was  ready. 

Charleton  looked  at  his  watch.     "He's  been  gone  over 


94       JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

an  hour.  After  you  eat,  you  go  see  what  kind  of  trouble 
he's  in,  Doug." 

Douglas  devoured  the  bacon  and  bread,  then  mounted 
and  rode  slowly  through  the  silent,  scented  forest.  His 
blue  eyes  danced  with  excitement,  his  tanned  cheeks 
burned  as  he  guided  the  Moose  through  the  quivering 
aspens  to  the  corral.  Here  he  pulled  up  with  a  sudden 
oath.  The  corral  was  empty,  the  fence  torn  open  in 
half  a  dozen  places. 

"That  blankety-blank  old  bull  must  have  started  a 
stampede!1'  gasped  Douglas.  "I  wouldn't  have  thought 
Scott  would  have  left  him  free  in  here!" 

He  rode  through  and  around  the  corral.  Cattle 
tracks  led  in  every  direction.  He  trotted  in  widening 
circles.  Perhaps  a  mile  north  of  the  corral,  he  pulled 
up  and  looked  closely  at  the  ground.  Single  cattle 
tracks  here  converged  and  a  herd  track  led  on  northward. 
As  he  stared  at  it,  the  bull  came  thundering  down  the 
trail.  Doug  put  the  Moose  after  him  but  had  not  fol 
lowed  him  for  five  minutes  when  Scott  broke  into  the 
chase  from  the  right. 

"What  do  you  think  you've  done,  blank  you?"  he 
shouted.  "What  have  you  done  with  the  rest  of  the 
herd?" 

"Done  with  the  herd?"  roared  Douglas.  "What  are 
you  talking  about?" 

"I  know  you,  you  dogy  rider,  you!  I  told  you  that 
wild  horse  of  yours  would  gum  the  game.  There  ain't 
a  steer  left!  What  do  you  mean  by  riding  him  into  the 
corral?" 

"You're  drunk!"  retorted  Douglas.  "You'd  better 
ride  after  that  bull  or  Charleton  will  pull  a  gun  on  you." 

".Ride  after  nothing !     Chase  him  yourself !" 

"On  second  thoughts,  I  think  I  will.     It's  your  turn 


THE  HUNT  ON  LOST  CHIEF  95 

to  play  nurse.  Go  on  back  and  tell  Charleton  what's 
happened." 

"Don't  get  fresh,  young  fellow!"  snarled  Scott. 

Douglas  pushed  back  his  hat  and  the  noon  sun  glim 
mered  through  the  pines  on  his  yellow  hair.  His  clear 
blue  eyes  studied  Scott  appraisingly.  Finally,  he  said, 
"I  guess,  on  third  thoughts,  I'll  take  you  back  to  Charle 
ton." 

Scott  laughed.     "Now  you're  drunk!" 

Douglas'  six-shooter  appeared  casually  between  the 
Moose's  twitching  ears.  "Hold  up  your  little  brown 
hands,  Scott,  till  I  reach  me  your  gun.  Fine!  Now 
ride  ahead  of  me  till  we  reach  Charleton.  Some  boy  I 
am  on  the  draw,  eh,  oldtimer?1' 

Scott  swore,  but  rode  ahead  at  a  steady  trot  until  they 
reached  the  noonday  camp.  Charleton  looked  at  them  in 
astonishment. 

"Call  this  damn  fool  off  my  back,  will  you,  Charleton?" 
drawled  Scott.  "He's  mad  because  I  called  him  for  let 
ting  that  wild  cayuse  of  his  stampede  the  herd." 

"He's  a  liar!  This  is  as  good  a  cow-pony  as  he  ever 
rode  and  better.  Ain't  a  better  horse  in  Lost  Chief  than 
this  same  Moose.  He  was  after  the  bull  like  a  hound 
after  a  coyote  when  Scott  broke  in  on  us,  the  dirty — " 

"Hold  on,"  interrupted  Charleton.  "What's  your 
story,  Scott?" 

"The  corral  is  broke  in  forty  places  and  all  the  stock 
gone.  I  suppose  this  fool  rode  his  wild  horse  into  the 
herd  and  stampeded  it.  I  found  him  running  the  bull  like 
he  and  his  horse  was  both  loco." 

Douglas  uttered  an  oath.  "Nothing  of  the  kind! 
When  I  got  there,  the  herd  was  gone  and  I'd  just  picked 
up  the  trail  when  the  bull  came  along." 

Charleton  looked  from  one  young  man  to  the  other. 


96       JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Doug  with  his  long  face  entirely  expressionless,  sitting 
easily  sidewise  in  his  saddle;  Scott,  face  flushed,  eyes 
angry,  standing  tense  in  the  stirrups.  There  came  an 
ugly  twist  to  Charleton's  lips,  but  after  a  moment  he 
spoke  coolly. 

"You  fellows  help  me  up  on  Democrat  and  we'll  beat 
it  for  home." 

"But  you  don't  believe  the  Moose — "  began  Doug. 
But  Charleton  interrupted. 

"If  I  wasn't  crippled  I'd  mighty  soon  show  you  fellows 
what  I  believed.  As  it  is,  I'm  going  home.  But  if  I 
find  either  of  you  has  double-crossed  me,  I'll  square  ac 
counts." 

There  was  that  in  Charleton's  eyes  which  caused  the 
two  riders  to  dismount  without  a  word.  They  heaved 
him  into  his  saddle  and,  with  his  lariat,  arranged  a  sling 
for  his  injured  ankle.  When  they  had  made  him  as  com 
fortable  and  secure  as  possible,  Scott  said  politely: 

"You  don't  need  two  of  us,  Charleton.  I  think  I'll  go 
after  a  bear  I  saw  in  the  raspberry  patch  beyond  the 
corral." 

"Nothing  doing,  Scott!"  grunted  Charleton. 

"You've  fallen  down  on  the  job,  Charleton,"  Scott 
laughed,  "so  you've  lost  your  right  to  boss." 

"No,  he  hasn't,"  said  Douglas.     "You  come  along!" 

But  this  time  Doug's  six-shooter  flashed  no  more 
quickly  than  Scott's.  Charleton,  his  face  twisted  with 
pain,  waited  for  a  thoughtful  minute  before  he  said : 

"Put  up  your  guns,  boys.  Let  him  go,  Doug,"  and 
he  turned  his  horse  eastward. 

Douglas  reluctantly  returned  his  gun  to  his  hip  and 
Scott  disappeared  at  a  canter.  The  Moose  followed 
after  Democrat. 

"What  did  you  do  that   for,   Charleton?"  demanded 


THE  HUNT  ON  LOST  CHIEF  97 

Douglas,  resentfully.  "That's  just  giving  him  the 
herd." 

"If  he  has  double-crossed  me,"  returned  the  older  man, 
"I'm  in  no  shape  to  handle  him  just  now.  He  never 
came  back  to  meet  you  till  he'd  turned  the  herd  over 
to  an  accomplice.  In  any  case,  I  lose  on  this  trick." 

"But  he  didn't  know  you  were  going  to  meet  up  with 
a  bull!" 

"No,  but  he  was  going  to  keep  us  away  from  the  cor 
ral,  somehow.  You  remember  he  said  he'd  come  back  to 
get  us  to  help  him  bring  in  some  steers.  Of  course,  you 
and  he  might  be  in  cahoots  on  this,  but  Scott's  tricky 
so  I'm  giving  you  some  of  the  benefits  of  the  doubt." 
Charleton  turned  in  his  saddle  to  favor  Douglas  with  a 
suspicious  stare. 

"I  didn't  double-cross  you,  Charleton,"  said  Douglas, 
not  without  a  simple  dignity  that  may  or  may  not  have 
impressed  his  mentor.  At  any  rate,  Charleton  made  no 
reply. 

Douglas  was  entirely  deflated.  He  drooped  deject 
edly  in  the  saddle,  guiding  the  stiff  and  weary  Moose 
without  interest.  His  wonderful  expedition  by  which  he 
was  to  establish  his  standing  as  a  man  with  his  father 
and  Judith  had  ended  in  ignominy.  He  watched  Charle- 
ton's  painfully  rigid  back  but  he  did  not  dare  to  speak 
to  him  until  they  were  nearly  home.  As  they  neared  the 
edge  of  the  first  line,  the  ground  became  tapestried  with 
lilies,  yellow,  white  and  crimson.  Tree-trunks  turned 
blue  against  the  blue  skies  that  belled  over  the  valley. 
As  they  descended,  the  Forest  Reserve  lifted  gradually,  a 
black  green  sea  beyond  the  burning  brown  level  of  the 
ranches.  But  Douglas  was  in  no  frame  of  mind  either 
to  seek  or  to  see  beauty.  He  had  a  guilty  sense  that 
Charleton  believed  that  he  had  failed  him,  and  finally  he 


98      JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

summoned  courage  to  call,  "Doggone  it,  Charleton!  I 
wanted  to  put  it  over,  don't  you  suppose?" 

Charleton  did  not  answer,  and  when  they  crossed  the 
canyon  back  of  Rodman's,  Douglas,  hurt  and  resentful, 
turned  the  Moose  onto  the  home  trail.  He  had  gone  al 
most  beyond  hailing  distance  before  Charleton  called, 
"Come  down  and  see  me  soon,  old  cattle  rustler !" 

Instantly  Doug's  spirits  soared.  He  waved  his  hand 
with  a  grin  and  put  the  Moose  to  a  trot. 

It  was  supper  time  when  he  clanked  into  the  kitchen. 
His  father  and  mother  were  at  the  table. 

"You're  early,  Doug!"  exclaimed  John. 

Doug  nodded.     "Where's  Judith?" 

"Keeping  that  mysterious  date  of  hers.  Maud,  of 
course!  She  won't  be  home  till  late.  I  hope  it's  not 
with  Inez.  You  look  tired,  Doug." 

"I  am.  Jude  makes  me  sick.  She's  harder  to  watch 
than  a  boy!" 

John  laughed  enigmatically  and  went  out  to  finish  his 
chores.  Shortly,  Douglas  followed  him  and  told  the 
story  of  the  miscarried  adventure. 

"I  told  Charleton  not  to  let  Scott  in  on  it,"  exclaimed 
John.  "Serves  him  right.  I  sure  got  the  laugh  on 
Charleton  this  time." 

"He's  awful  sore!  Acts  kind  of  suspicious  of  me," 
said  Douglas  ruefully. 

"A  guy  like  Charleton  don't  even  trust  himself." 
John  pitched  down  a  forkful  of  hay.  "Have  you  any 
idea  what  Maud  and  Jude  are  up  to?" 

"No,  sir.     Are  you  worried  about  her?" 

John  laughed.  "As  long  as  Scott  Parsons  was  with 
you,  why  worry?  We'd  ought  to  let  Young  Jeff  run 
that  crook  out  of  the  valley." 

"I'll  do  it  myself,  some  day."     Douglas  squared  his 


THE  HUNT  ON  LOST  CHIEF          99 

big  shoulders  as  he  spoke.  He  was  still  very  thin  and 
his  clo.thes  hung  loose  on  him.  But  his  father,  looking 
him  over,  did  not  smile. 

"Go  to  it,  boy,"  he  said. 

Douglas  had  planned  to  lie  awake  until  Judith  re 
turned.  But  the  minute  he  touched  his  pillow  he  dropped 
into  dreamless  slumber  from  which  he  did  not  waken 
until  breakfast  time.  John  was  scolding  Judith  when 
Doug  reached  the  table. 

"That's  all  right,  to  he  so  highty-tighty.  You  can  get 
away  with  that  with  your  mother  but  not  with  me.  It 
was  nearly  three  o'clock  this  morning  when  you  came 
in." 

"O,  no,  John!  It  wasn't  that  late,"  protested  Mary 
anxiously. 

"Now,  Mary,  don't  put  up  one  of  your  fool  lies  for 
the  little  devil.  I  know  what  time  it  was.  What  ex 
cuse  have  you,  miss?" 

Judith,  who  was  looking  tired,  but  singularly  self- 
satisfied,  answered  demurely,  "I  was  out  on  business, 
Dad.  And  I'm  going  to  get  pay  for  it,  too.  A  horse 
that  will  really  buck." 

John's  face  was  flushing  when  Douglas  spoke.  "Aw, 
let  her  keep  her  secret,  Dad!  I  don't  think  she's  done 
a  thing  but  rope  a  stray  pony." 

Judith  protested  quickly.  "Nothing  of  the  kind!  If 
you  three  just  knew  what  I  have  done,  you'd  respect  me. 
Anyway,  Doug,  I  know  where  you  were.  Over  on  Fire 
Mesa  with  Charleton  Falkner." 

"Who  told  you  that?"  grinned  Douglas. 

"Somebody  that  knew.  Dad,  why  don't  you  get  after 
Doug  like  you  do  after  me?  What  was  he  doing  over 
on  Fire  Mesa,  all  night?" 

"That's  right,  Doug!     \Vhat  were  you  doing  on  Fire 


ioo     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Mesa?"  asked  John,  all  a  broad  smile  now  that  infuri 
ated  Judith. 

She  jumped  up  from  the  table,  took  down  her  milking 
pail  and  went  out.  Nor  did  she  give  Douglas  oppor 
tunity  to  talk  to  her  during  the  rest  of  the  day.  Not 
until  twilight  had  settled  in  the  valley  did  Douglas  find  her 
alone.  Then,  searching  for  her,  he  discovered  her  be 
hind  the  corral,  curled  up  against  the  new  alfalfa  stack, 
her  eyes  on  the  sunset  glow  above  Lost  Chief  Peak. 

Douglas  sat  down  beside  her.  "I  didn't  mean  to 
tease  you,  this  morning,  Jude.  I  was  just  trying  to 
steer  Dad  off." 

"But  you  always  do  think  my  stunts  never  amount  to 
anything,  Doug!" 

"Have  I  said  a  word  like  that,  lately?  I  can't  help 
being  anxious,  can  I,  when  a  girl  like  you  stays  out  until 
three  in  the  morning?" 

"Yes,  you  were  so  anxious  your  snores  shook  the 
house!"  returned  Judith.  "Now  admit,  Doug,  that  you 
really  think  it  was  nothing  worth  worrying  about." 

"Well,  I  don't  see  how  it  could  be  anything  so  very 
important." 

"There,  I  knew  it!  Doug,  I'm  so  proud  of  myself 
that  if  I  don't  tell  some  one,  I'll  burst.  Give  me  your 
word  of  honor  you'll  never  give  it  away  and  I'll  tell 
you." 

"I  swear  I'll  die  before  I'll  peep!" 

"Still  think  it's  funny,  don't  you!  All  right,  mister, 
prepare  to  faint!  I  was  out  helping  Scott  Parsons  run 
cattle." 

Douglas  gasped. 

"There,  Doug  Spencer!  You're  such  a  wonder!  Of 
course,"  honestly,  "I  didn't  do  the  hardest  part.  Scott 
had  got  'em  all  together  in  a  corral  before  I  got  there. 


THE  HUNT  ON  LOST  CHIEF         101 

But  I  held  the  herd  in  a  little  canyon  for  a  couple  of 
hours  while  he  got  old  Nelson  off  the  scent.  Then  we 
drove  'em  across  the  ridge,  down  into  the  desert  country 
west  of  Mesa  Pass.  He's  going  to  sell  'em  in  Mountain 
City  and  my  share  is  a  good  bucking  horse,  like  I  told 
you." 

Douglas  sat  perfectly  still,  so  torn  by  conflicting  emo 
tions  that  for  a  time  he  was  speechless.  Finally,  from 
the  chaos  of  his  mind  rose  an  overwhelming  anger. 

"Do  you  think  that's  a  decent  thing  to  do?  A  girl, 
running  cattle  and  with  a  confessed  murderer  at  that? 
I  sure  am  ashamed  of  you,  Jude!" 

"Can  you  beat  a  man!"  cried  Judith  to  the  flaming 
heavens.  "He  won't  even  give  me  credit  for  being  a 
cattle  wrangler!  And  he  says  he  loves  me!" 

Doug's  voice  was  furious.  "You  ought  to  be  ashamed 
of  yourself,  stealing  cattle  and  running  round  with  that 
Inez  Rodman!" 

"You  just  be  careful  of  what  you  say,  Doug  Spencer!" 

"Careful!  Why  should  I  be  careful  You  aren't 
careful!" 

"I'm  a  whole  lot  better  than  you,  at  that!  If  it's  so 
smart  for  you  to  do  all  these  things,  why  isn't  it  for 
me?" 

"A  woman  has  to  be  good.  It's  her  job  to  be  good. 
If  she  isn't  good  in  a  cattle  country  like  this,  everything 
goes  to  pieces." 

"It's  a  wonder  you  men  don't  set  us  women  an  ex 
ample,"  said  Judith  coolly. 

"Don't   I   try  to  keep  you  straight?" 

"Yeh!     A  wonderful  example  you  set  me!" 

Douglas'  voice  broke  with  anger.  "Don't  talk  like  a 
fool !  Th,e  world  isn't  like  that !  The  women  have  to 
be  good.  The  men  want  'em  to  be,  no  matter  how  hard 


102     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

they  try  to  make  the  women  bad.  And  the  more 
you  care  for  a  girl,  the  more  you  want  her  to  be  per 
fect." 

"The  world  is  plumb  loco  and  you  with  it!" 

"You're  as  cold  as  a  dead  rabbit!"  exclaimed  Doug. 

Judith  laughed  mirthlessly.  "Yes,  I'm  cold!  I'm  as 
cold  as  fire!"  And  suddenly  she  put  her  head  down  on 
her  knees  and  burst  into  tears. 

Instantly  Douglas  melted.  He  put  his  arms  about 
Judith  and  drew  her  head  to  his  shoulder.  "O  Jude! 
Don't!  If  I  could  only  make  you  see  it's  my  love  for 
you  makes  me  so  mad!" 

"You — you  don't  want  me  to  have  any  fun!"  sobbed 
Judith.  "How'd  you  like  to  be  asked  to  give  up  every 
thing  yourself  and  stay  home  like  a  woman?" 

"I  wouldn't  like  it.  But  a  regular  girl  oughtn't  to 
want  to  do  such  things." 

"Why  not?  I  like  horses  and  dogs  and  the  wind  on 
Fire  Mesa  just  as  much  as  you  do.  And  dancing  and 
hunting  by  moonlight  and  getting  away  with  somebody 
else's  cattle  and  all  of  it  I  love  it!  And  you  ask  me 
to  give  it  up  because  you  want  me  to  be  good.  What 
do  you  call  good,  anyhow?" 

Douglas  did  not  answer  at  once.  In  the  first  place, 
Judith's  flushed  cheek  in  his  neck  upset  his  equilibrium, 
and  in  the  second  place  he  was  overwhelmed  with  a  sud 
den  consciousness  of  the  truth  of  Peter's  statement,  that 
he  had  not  a  cleancut  idea  to  his  name. 

But  finally  he  stammered,  "Well,  I  call  being  good  not 
drinking  or  stealing  or  being  loose  with  men  or  any  of 
those  things — for  a  girl." 

"And  for  a  man?"  asked  Judith,  sitting  erect. 

"Aw,  who  wants  a  man  to  be  good?"  laughed  Douglas. 


THE  HUNT  ON  LOST  CHIEF         103 

"I  do,"  replied  Judith,  with  a  sudden  thrilling  inten 
sity  in  her  young  voice.  "I  want  his  strength  to  be  as 
the  strength  of  ten,  because  his  heart  is  pure." 

"Judith,  you  really  do?" 

"Yes,  I  really  do." 

Douglas  drew  a  long  breath.  "Judith,  would  you  want 
me  to  be  that  way?" 

"I   sure  would." 

"Well,  then,  Judith,  so  help  me  God,  I  will  be !" 

Judith  put  her  slender,  muscular  hand  on  Doug's, 
swallowed  hard  once  or  twice,  but  said  nothing.  Then, 
the  tense  moment  past,  she  asked,  "Honest,  Dong, 
don't  you  think  that  was  kind  of  a  smart  stunt  of 
mine?" 

"I  certainly  do,"  with  heart-felt  conviction.  "But  I 
want  you  to  promise  me  one  thing.  That  you  won't 
run  any  more  cattle.  Will  you,  Jude?" 

"I'll  promise  you,  if  you'll  promise  me,"  returned 
Judith  promptly. 

"But  it's  different  with  a  man,"  repeated  Douglas. 

"But  you  promised  about  that  other." 

"That  was  different.  It  was  something  personal 
between  you  and  me.  The  other  is  business." 

"All   right!     I   don't   promise  unless  you  do." 

"I  can't  promise,  Jude.     Honest,  I  can't." 

Jude  laughed  and  jumped  to  her  feet.  "You  are  a 
goose,  Doug,  but  I  sure  am  fond  of  you."  Then  she 
left  him. 

Douglas  sat  still,  his  head  pressed  against  the  indescrib 
able  sweetness  of  the  alfalfa  hay,  eyes  on  the  wonder 
of  the  stars.  Finally  he  said  aloud,  "I  wish  there  was 
somebody  a  fellow  could  talk  to  tkat  knows  things.  I 
wish  my  grandfather  Douglas  was  alive.  Peter  jaws 


104    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

too  much.  What  I  want  is  to  know  facts,  then  judge 
for  myself." 

His  father  passed  by  the  haystack,  pitchfork  on 
shoulder.  "Who  are  you  talking  to,  Doug?"  he  asked. 

"The  biggest  fool  in  Lost  Chief,"  replied  Douglas, 
rising  and  following  his  father  to  the  house. 


CHAPTER  VI 

LITTLE   SWIFT    CROSSES   THE   DIVIDE 

"Ride  'em  till  they  drop,  then  break  another.     That's 
what  Nature  does  and  that's  what  I  do." 

— John  Spencer. 

f  I  AHE  following  afternoon  when  Douglas  rode  after 
•*•  the  mail  he  went  round  by  the  west  trail  to  call  on 
Charleton.  He  found  the  crippled  philosopher  propped 
up  in  bed,  reading  the  Atlantic  Monthly  and  smoking  a 
pipe.  Mrs.  Falkner  and  Little  Marion  were  in  the  corral 
doing  the  chores. 

"Well,  how's  the  Moose  after  his  disappointment?" 
asked  Charleton. 

"Going  strong!     Any  news  of  Scott?" 

"No;  I  don't  expect  any  news  for  a  week  till  I  get 
on  my  feet." 

"I  guess  we  might  as  well  let  him  go  and  try  again 
without  him,"  said  Doug,  looking  out  the  ( door  at  Little 
Marion,  who  was  astride  a  saddleless  mule  which  was 
doing  its  best  to  climb  the  corral  fence. 

Charleton  grinned.  "No  one  can  double-cross  me 
without  my  taking  the  trouble  to  show  him  he  can't  do 
it  twice,  can  they,  Marion?"  as  his  wife  came  in  with 
an  armload  of  wood  she  had  just  split. 

"You  are  as  revengeful  as  a  wolf,  if  that's  what  you 
mean,"  replied  Mrs.  Falkner.  "Not  that  you've  tried  it 
on  me." 

Charleton  gave  her  an  amused  glance  not  unmixed 
with  admiration. 

105 


106     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"I  don't  know  that  even  a  wolf  would  tackle  a  lynx 
cat,"  he  chuckled. 

Douglas  looked  from  the  beautiful  woman  around  the 
homelike  room.  "You're  a  lucky  chap,  Charleton,"  he 
said  suddenly. 

Mrs.  Falkner  had  picked  up  her  sewing-basket.  "No 
body  with  a  mind  like  Charleton's  is  so  awful  lucky," 
she  said. 

"Ouch!"  grinned  Charleton,  and  lighted  his  pipe  afresh. 

Douglas  pondered  on  Mrs.  Falkner's  remark  on  his 
way  back  to  the  post-office.  Peter  was  sitting  on  the 
doorstep  with  Sister.  The  mail  had  been  distributed 
and  most  of  Lost  Chief  had  come  and  gone. 

"That  horse  is  tired,  Doug,"  said  Peter.  "What  have 
you  been  doing?  Running  him  to  break  him?" 

"Aw,  he's  all  right,"  protested  Douglas.  "Don't 
climb  a  tree  about  him,  Peter.  I  want  to  talk  to  you. 
Make  Sister  move  over." 

"Sister,"  said  Peter,  "don't  you  want  to  go  down  and 
speak  nice  to  your  old  friend  Prince?" 

Prince,  standing  before  the  platform  with  slavering 
tongue,  bright  eyes  shining,  wagged  his  tail  in  a  concil 
iatory  manner.  Sister  sniffed,  growled,  whimpered, 
then  walked  deliberately  down  the  steps  and  said  some 
thing  to  Prince.  He  barked  and  they  trotted  over  to 
the  plains  east  of  the  post-office. 

"She's  got  a  dead  coyote  she  keeps  up  there  for  her 
special  friends,"  said  Peter.  "What's  your  trouble, 
Doug?" 

Douglas  sat  down  in  Sister's  place.  "I've  been  over 
to  see  Charleton,  and  his  wife  said  something  that  struck 
me  as  queer."  He  repeated  Marion's  comment. 

Peter  laughed.  "The  women  in  this  valley  beat  any 
bunch  I've  seen  anywhere.  If  the  men  were  their  equals, 


LITTLE  SWIFT  CROSSES  DIVIDE      107 

there  wouldn't  be  a  spot  in  the  world  could  touch  Lost 
Chief.  What  do  you  think  of  Charleton's  mind,  Doug?" 

"I  think  he's  a  wonder.     He's  lived,  that  guy." 

"Any  guy  of  forty  has  lived.  It's  the  way  they  look 
at  life  that  makes  men  different.  Charleton  hasn't  any 
faith  in  anything  good.  That's  why  he's  unlucky.  Don't 
let  him  influence  you  too  much,  Doug.  I  like  Charleton 
but  he's  not  good  medicine  for  a  boy  of  your  kind. 
Have  you  thought  anything  about  my  offer  of  a  couple 
of  months  ago?" 

"Not  much.  I'm  putting  in  most  of  my  time  worrying 
about  Jude." 

"Has  she  been  doing  anything  special?" 

"Well,  yes.  If  I  could  just  make  her  care  for  me,  it 
would  be  easy.  But,  Peter,  she  cares  a  lot  more  for 
that  poor  old  broken  down  Swift  than  she  does  for  me." 

"She's  just  a  child.     You'll  have  to  be  patient,  Doug." 

"I  am  patient,  Peter.  But,  in  the  meantime,  Scott, 
or — "  He  hesitated,  then  went  on.  "I  tell  you,  this 
caring  for  a  woman  who  don't  care  for  you  is  hell, 
Peter!" 

Peter  stared  off  toward  Fire  Mesa,  with  its  rolling 
clouds  of  red,  and  answered  seriously,  "Yes,  it  is,  Doug 
las.  But  I  told  you  in  June  all  that  I  could  think  of, 
in  regard  to  Judith,  and  you  got  sore  at  me." 

"Well,  I'm  not  sore  now.  I  was  a  fool.  Here  comes 
Jimmy  Day.  Give  me  my  mail,  Peter,  and  I'll  beat  it. 
I'm  in  no  frame  of  mind  to  talk  to  a  kid." 

Jimmy,  who  was  perhaps  a  year  older  than  Douglas, 
pulled  his  sweating  horse  to  its  haunches.  His  dog,  a 
mongrel  collie,  ran  up  the  trail  to  meet  the  returning 
Sister  and  Prince.  There  was  a  whining  colloquy,  then 
the  three  dogs  turned  back. 

"Must  be  a  scandal  somewhere,"  suggested  Jimmy. 


io8     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"No,  just  a  dead  coyote,"  said  Peter.  "Sister  ran 
him  down  yesterday.  Ain't  a  dog  in  the  State  outside 
of  a  greyhound  can  touch  her." 

Douglas  made  a  flying  leap  into  the  saddle  while 
the  Moose  whirled  on  his  hind  legs. 

"Some  horse,  Doug!"  exclaimed  Jimmy.  "I'll  swap 
this  and  a  two-year-older  heifer  for  him." 

"I'm  afraid  he  might  hurt  you.  He's  a  regular  man's 
horse,  Jimmy."  Doug  lighted  a  cigarette  while  the 
Moose  reared. 

"Thanks,"  grunted  Jimmy.  "Say,  did  you  know 
Scott  Parsons  has  had  four  young  calves  by  one  milch 
cow,  all  th,e  same  age?  Ree-markable  man,  Scott.  Say, 
I  was  by  there  the  other  day  and  there  sat  Scott  in  the 
corral  on  Ginger  cracking  a  black  snake  at  this  fool  cow 
to  make  her  let  those  four  slicks  eat.  He'll  die  rich, 
Scott  will.  He's  the  calf-gettingest  rider  in  the  Rockies." 

Douglas  turned  the  Moose  into  the  home  trail.  When 
he  reached  the  ranch,  Judith  was  strolling  in  the  main 
corral  with  her  arm  about  the  neck  of  the  bull  Scott  had 
given  her.  He  would  follow  Judith  about  like  a  pet  dog 
but  would  allow  no  one  else  to  touch  him. 

"When  he  is  a  little  older,  you  won't  be  able  to  play 
with  him  that  way,  Jude,"  said  Douglas,  eying  the  pair 
with  admiration  not  untinctured  with  apprehension. 

It  was  a  brilliant  afternoon,  with  the  western  sun 
throwing  long  golden  shadows  across  old  Dead  Line 
Peak.  The  corral  with  its  fringe  of  quivering  aspens  a 
silvery  lavender;  the  great  red  bull;  the  young  girl  with 
her  noble  proportions,  rubbing  the  brute's  ferocious  head 
with  one  slender  brown  hand,  made  an  unforgettable 
picture.  The  puppy,  Wolf  Cub,  was  chewing  an  old 
boot  beside  the  alfalfa  stack. 

"He'll  always  be  fond  of  me  if  I  handle  him  right," 


LITTLE  SWIFT  CROSSES  DIVIDE      109 

said  Judith.  "Won't  you,  Sioux?  I'm  going  to  saddle 
him,  some  day,  Doug." 

"Well,  not  while  I'm  around,"  exclaimed  the  young 
rider,  as  he  pulled  the  bridle  over  the  Moose's  head. 
"Say,  have  you  seen  Scott  yet?" 

"No.     Why?" 

"I  pity  him.     Charleton  sure  is  after  him." 

"Charleton?     Why?" 

Douglas  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "You  ask  Scott 
why,"  and  he  strode  off  to  his  chores. 

Doug  did  not  see  Charleton  again  for  several  days. 
But  one  afternoon,  about  a  week  after  the  return  from 
the  hunt,  they  met  at  the  post-office  and  Charleton,  who 
wanted  to  see  John,  rode  home  with  him. 

"Scott  is  back,"  said  Doug. 

"Yes;  I  saw  him  yesterday."  Charleton  smiled.  "I 
found  out  who  was  his  helper  on  that  little  deal." 

"You  did!  How?"  Douglas'  voice  was  so  sharp 
that  the  Moose  jumped  nervously. 

"I  bought  the  information.  Swapped  him  something 
for  it." 

"Who  was  it?  Do  you  believe  him?"  Doug  spoke 
a  little  breathlessly. 

"I  don't  know.     I'm  going  to  check  up  on  it  now." 

"Charleton,  who  did  he  say  it  was?  Please,  Charle 
ton!" 

The  older  man  turned  to  look  suspiciously  at  Doug. 
"How  long  have  you  known  it?" 

"You've  no  call  to  speak  that  way  to  me,"  cried  Doug 
las. 

"Humph!  Well,  he  says  it  was  that  young  devil  of 
a  Jude." 

"Look  here,  Charleton,  don't  say  anything  to  my 
father  about  it.  He'll  go  crazy." 


no    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"I  don't  know  what  I'll  do.  I'll  talk  to  Jucie,  first." 
And  Charleton  would  say  no  more. 

He  found  Judith  in  the  milking  shed,  and  while  he 
talked  to  her  there  Douglas  engaged  his  father's  atten 
tion  in  the  living-room.  Here  Judith  swept  upon 
them. 

"Doug  Spencer,  as  long  as  I  live,  I'll  not  speak  to 
you  again!  You  promise  breaker,  you — " 

"Wait,  Jude!  I  haven't  told  anybody.  Did  I  tell 
you,  Charleton?" 

"I've  told  her  that  you  didn't  but  she  won't  believe 
me,"  grinned  Charleton. 

"Scott  wouldn't  have  told.  Doug  was  the  only  one 
that  knew!"  Judith  paced  the  floor. 

"What  the  devil  has  broke  loose?"  demanded  John. 

"Now  you  have  started  something,  Jude,"  groaned 
Douglas. 

"Judith!  Do  calm  down!"  pleaded  her  mother,  who 
had  taken  her  hands  out  of  the  biscuit  dough  and  now 
stood,  twisting  her  fingers,  in  the  doorway. 

"Well,"  said  Charleton,  "I  don't  know  any  reason 
why  I  should  keep  quiet  after  the  pretty  names  Jude 
has  called  me.  It  was  Judith  that  helped  Scott  double- 
cross  us  up  on  Lost  Chief  Peak.  She  claims  she  didn't 
know  it  was  our  deal." 

"She  didn't,  either !"  cried  Douglas  stoutly. 

John  gasped,  "Jude!  She  got  away  with  your  cattle, 
Charleton?  That  sure-gawd  is  funny!  Jude!  OLord!" 
And  John  burst  into  a  tornado  of  laughter  that  lasted 
until  he  dropped  weakly  on  his  bed. 

Judith  stared  at  him,  uncertainly,  as  did  her  mother. 
Douglas  scowled.  Charleton  lighted  a  cigarette. 

"Of  course,  it  has  its  humorous  side,"  said  Charleton, 
as  John's  shouts  died  down.  "But  I've  served  notice  on 


LITTLE  SWIFT  CROSSES  DIVIDE      111 

Scott  and  I  serve  notice  on  Judith  now,  that  I'm  not  the 
man  who  kisses  the  hand  that  spoils  his  deals." 

This  remark  sobered  John.  "You're  right,  too, 
Charleton.  Jude,  how'd  you  come  to  do  such  a  fool 
thing?" 

"How'd  Doug  and  Charleton  come  to  do  such  a  fool 
thing?"  asked  Judith.  "Scott  and  I  had  as  good  a  right 
to  run  cattle  off  them  as  they  had  off  Elijah  Nelson." 

"O  Judith!     Judith!"  exclaimed  her  mother. 

"You  know  how  I  feel  about  Scott  Parsons!"  cried 
John.  "Jude,  I'm  going  to  punish  you  for  this  so  you'll 
never  forget  it." 

"In  other  words,  if  Doug  runs  cattle,  he's  admired. 
If  I  run  cattle,  I'm  punished!"  Jude's  fine  eyes  were 
flashing,  her  tanned  cheeks  burning. 

"Doug's  a  boy;  you're  a  girl,"  replied  John.  "And 
I've  told  you  to  let  Scott  Parsons  alone." 

"I  wish  I  were  dead!"  exclaimed  Jude. 

"Well,"  said  Charleton  casually,  "I  must  be  getting 
back  home."  No  one  heeded  him  as  he  clanked  out  the 
door. 

"How  are  you  going  to  punish  Jude,  Dad?"  demanded 
Douglas. 

"Doug,"  cried  Judith,  "you  keep  out  of  my  affairs 
from  now  on!  I'll  show  you  that  you  can't  break  a 
promise  to  me." 

"Judith,  I  tell  you  that  I  never  breathed  a  word." 

"I  know  better.  Scott  wouldn't  be  such  a  fool.  And 
he  told  me  not  an  hour  ago  that  Charleton  said  you'd 
given  me  away.  And,  anyhow,  I  think  more  of  Scott 
Parsons  than  I  do  of  you  and  Dad  put  together!  He's 
not  always  jawing  at  me.  He  thinks  I'm  just  right  as 
I  am.'" 

Douglas    drew    himself    up,    angry    and     offended. 


112     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"You'll  come  after  me,  miss,  before  I  speak  to  you 
again !" 

"That's  exactly  what  I  want!"  retorted  Judith. 

During  this  dialogue,  Mary  stood  with  the  tears  run 
ning  down  her  cheeks,  begging  the  two  to  stop  quarreling. 
John  leaned  against  the  table,  his  eyes  half  closed,  his 
mouth  distorted. 

"So  that's  how  the  land  lies  with  Scott?"  he  shouted 
suddenly. 

"Yes,  and  if  you  lay  hands  on  me,  I'll  shoot  you,"  said 
Judith  succinctly. 

"I  know  how  to  get  you,  miss,"  sneered  John. 

He  rushed  out  of  the  house.  A  moment  later  he 
galloped  past  the  window  on  Beauty.  Judith  walked  de 
fiantly  to  the  door  and  looked  after  him.  Douglas 
went  out  to  the  corral.  Shortly,  John  returned,  leading 
Swift.  He  pulled  up  in  front  of  the  door  and  dis 
mounted.  He  kicked  Swift  in  the  haunch  to  make  her 
turn,  and  before  Judith  could  do  more  than  start  toward 
him  from  the  door,  he  put  his  six-shooter  to  Swift's 
patient  little  head  and  pulled  the  trigger.  Swift  dropped 
to  her  knees  and  rolled  over. 

"Now,  Jude,  try  it  again  and  I'll  give  Buster  a  dose," 
said  John,  standing  tense  as  he  waited  for  the  girl's 
attack. 

But  with  a  look  of  such  horror  that  John  recoiled, 
she  stopped  in  her  tracks.  She  threw  her  arms  about 
her  head  with  a  groan,  ran  across  the  yard  to  the  stable 
and  climbed  into  the  hay-loft.  Douglas  stood  for  a 
moment  as  if  turned  to  stone.  Then  he  picked  up  a 
bridle  and  went  into  the  corral  for  the  Moose.  As  he 
adjusted  the  saddle,  John  led  Beauty  to  the  fence. 

"You  finish  those  chores,  Doug!" 

Douglas  went  on  tightening  the  cinch. 


LITTLE  SWIFT  CROSSES  DIVIDE     113 

"It  was  just  a  broken-down  cow  pony  that  should 
have  been  shot  long  ago,"  said  John,  sullenly. 

Douglas  leaped  into  the  saddle,  took  the  fence  like  a 
swallow,  and  was  gone.  Prince  yelped  on  the  trail  be 
fore  him. 

Where  he  was  going,  Doug  did  not  know.  He  thrust 
the  spurs  into  the  Moose  and  set  him  straight  up  the 
sheer  barren  side  of  Falkner's  Peak  until  the  Moose  was 
winded,  then  he  dismounted  and  led  him  up  and  up 
until  they  both  were  exhausted.  Then  Doug  looped  the 
reins  over  a  clump  of  sage-brush  and  dropped  to  the 
ground.  Prince  squatted  beside  him,  panting. 

A  blind  despair  had  engulfed  Doug.  He  could 
think  of  nothing  to  do.  Nothing  that  would  adequately 
punish  his  father,  nothing  that  would  solace  Judith  or 
bring  her  to  her  senses. 

Nothing  is  so  intolerably  bitter  to  youth  as  its  first 
realization  of  the  fact  that  one  is  helpless  to  change  life 
as  it  is.  Douglas,  biting  his  nails  and  railing  at  the 
heavens,  was  draining  one  of  life's  bitterest  drinks. 
He  was  in  deep  trouble,  utterly  alone,  and  he  had  no 
spiritual  star  for  guidance. 

But  when  he  finally  descended  the  mountainside  he 
had  taken  a  resolve.  He  was  going  to  leave  home  for 
a  while.  He  was  going  to  wcfrk  for  Charleton,  who  was 
greatly  in  need  of  a  rider.  He  was  not  yet  of  age, 
but  he  was  not  afraid  of  John's  forcing  him  to  return. 

His  father  and  mother  were  in  bed  when  he  reached 
home.  Judith's  bed  was  empty.  Douglas  went  out  to 
the  stable  and  climbed  noiselessly  to  the  loft.  On  the 
hay  close  to  the  open  door,  lay  Judith',  her  face  dimly 
outlined  in  the  moonlight.  She  was  still  sobbing  in  her 
sleep.  Douglas  stood  looking  down  on  her  till  his  own 
eyes  were  tear-blinded.  Then  he  knelt  in  the  hay  and 


ii4    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

kissed  her  softly  on  the  lips.  She  stirred  but  did  not 
open  her  eyes,  and  he  slipped  back  to  the  ladder  and 
down,  without  a  sound. 

He  went  to  'bed  at  once  but  was  up  in  the  morning 
before  his  father,  leaving  a  note  on  the  kitchen  table: 

I  am  going  to  work  for  Charleton  till  things  are  better  here  at 
home. 

Douglas. 

He  found  Charleton  grooming  Democrat.  "Charle 
ton,"  he  said,  "you  made  a  lot  of  trouble  for  Jude  last 
night." 

"What  happened?"  asked  Charleton. 

Douglas  told  him. 

"That  was  a  rotten  trick !"  exclaimed  Charleton.  "I 
just  thought  he'd  lick  her.  John's  got  a  mean  temper." 

"I  want  to  work  for  you  a  while,  Charleton.  I'm 
sick  of  the  rows  at  home." 

"John  willing?" 

"I  haven't  asked  him." 

Charleton  grinned.  "I  need  a  rider,  sure.  You  fin 
ish  currying  Democrat  while  I  go  in  and  talk  to  the 
missis.  Little  Marion's  visiting  at  Lone  Bend.  Maybe 
my  wife  will  think  it's  too  much  cooking  for  two  men." 
But  he  came  back  in  a  little  while,  smiling  cheerfully. 
"Come  on  in  to  breakfast.  It's  all  right." 

So  Douglas  settled  to  riding  for  Charleton  Falkner. 
His  father  did  not  come  after  him,  and  when  the  two 
met  on  the  Black  Gorge  trail  a  day  or  so  after  Doug's 
departure,  John  returned  Douglas'  muttered  greeting 
with  a  silent,  ugly  stare.  There  was  comment  and  con 
jecture  in  Lost  Chief,  but  the  fall  round-up  was  coming 
and  this  soon  engrossed  the  attention  of  the  community. 
Of  Scott,  Douglas  saw  nothing. 


LITTLE  SWIFT  CROSSES  DIVIDE      115 

The  fall  slipped  into  winter,  which  in  Lost  Chief  coun 
try  begins  in  September,  and  Christmas  passed  with  none 
of  the  Spencers  at  the  schoolhouse  party  excepting  Ju 
dith,  who  attended  with  Scott.  February  slipped  into 
March  and  Douglas'  eighteenth  birthday  passed  un 
noticed.  The  snows  were  too  deep  to  allow  Charleton 
to  undertake  any  of  those  mysterious  missions  for  which 
he  was  so  much  admired,  and  Elijah  Nelson  was  allowed 
to  flourish  unmolested.  It  was  reported  that  the  Mor 
mon  had  accused  Lost  Chief  of  running  some  of  his 
cattle,  but  he  evidently  had  no  desire  to  start  a  contro 
versy  with  the  valley.  And  Douglas  came  more  and 
more  under  Charleton's  influence. 

Peter  Knight,  watching  the  boy  more  closely  than 
Doug  at  all  realized,  was  deeply  troubled  by  what  he 
felt  might  permanently  distort  Doug's  ideas  of  life. 

"How  are  you  and  Judith  making  it,  Doug?"  Peter 
asked  him  one  Sunday  afternoon  early  in  April,  when 
he  and  the  young  rider  were  sunning  themselves  in  the 
post-office  door. 

"You  know  Judith  hasn't  spoken  to  me  since  last 
August,"  replied  Doug  impatiently. 

"Too  bad!"   grunted  Peter. 

"O,  I  don't  know,"  replied  Douglas.  "I  don't  see 
much  to  this  marriage  game  anyhow.  Look  at  the 
couples  round  here  and  point  me  out  any  of  'em  that's 
been  married  over  five  years  that're  really  in  love.  Just 
a  houseful  of  brats  and  a  woman  to  nag  you." 

"Dry  up,  Doug!  You  are  just  quoting  Charletoni 
Falkner.  I've  heard  plenty  of  his  empty  ideas  in  the 
last  twenty  years.  You've  worked  for  him  long  enough, 
anyhow.  Better  go  back  to  your  home;  or  if  you're 
through  with  Jude,  take  my  offer  and  go  East  to  school." 

"Forget  it,  Peter!     As  soon  as  Fire  Mesa  opens  up, 


n6    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

I'm  going  after  wild  horses  with  Charleton.  And  you 
can  roast  him  all  you  want  to,  but  he  knows  life." 

"Knows  your  foot!"  snorted  Peter.  "If  anybody 
could  catch  Charleton  with  his  skin  off,  we'd  find  he 
gets  happiness  and  sorrow  out  of  the  same  things  the 
rest  of  us  do.  He's  just  a  big  bluff,  Charleton  is." 

"He's  lived  too  much  to  let  anything  get  him,"  said 
Douglas  stoutly. 

Peter  laughed.  "Nobody  can  accuse  you  of  having 
lived  too  much,  Douglas."  Then  he  added  soberly, 
"You're  disappointing  me  a  lot,  Douglas.  I  never 
thought  you'd  let  go  of  Jude." 

"Jude  let  go  of  me,"  replied  Douglas.  "I  suppose  she 
thought  I'd  come  running  back  to  her,  but  she's  mis 
taken.  I'm  through  with  women." 

"Don't  talk  like  an  idiot,  Doug,"  said  Peter,  after  a 
long  careful  look  at  Douglas'  face.  "I  know  you.  You 
are  breaking  your  heart  this  minute  for  Judith.  And 
she  misses  you  a  whole  lot  more  than  she'll  admit." 

"How  do  you  know?  Have  you  talked  to  her?" 
asked  Douglas  quickly.  "How  are  things  going  up 
there?" 

"Yes,  I've  talked  to  her.  She's  all  right,  but  she's 
getting  too  many  of  Inez'  ideas  in  her  head.  She  says 
John  doesn't  say  ten  words  a  day.  You'd  better  go 
back,  Doug." 

"Go  back!  With  Jude  believing  I  double-crossed  her 
and  nothing  but  rows  going  all  the  time?  I'll  admit 
I'm  unhappy,  but  at  least  it's  peaceful  at  Charleton's. 
He  and  his  wife  don't  fight.  I  tell  you  that  if  home's 
just  a  place  to  fight  in,  I  don't  want  a  home." 

"What  do  you  want,  Douglas?"  asked  Peter. 

"I  don't  know,"  muttered  the  young  rider. 

"I  know,"  said  Peter  softly.     "You  want  a  guiding 


LITTLE  SWIFT  CROSSES  DIVIDE      117 

star,  you  want  something  that's  not  to  be  found  in  this 
valley,  an  ideal  fine  enough  to  save  your  soul  alive.  You 
come  of  stock  that  lived  and  died  by  a  spiritual  idea, 
Doug,  and  you  are  going  to  be  unhappy  till  you  find 
one." 

Douglas  turned  this  over  in  his  mind  soberly  for  a 
few  minutes.  "Have  you  got  one,  Peter?"  he  finally 
asked,  wistfully. 

"No!  I  might  have  had  if  your  mother  had  lived. 
She  was  an  idealist  if  ever  there  was  one.  Work  your 
self  out  a  plan,  Doug,  that  is  based  on  something  fine, 
then  fight  to  put  it  over.  That's  the  only  way  you'll 
ever  be  contented." 

"What  I  want,"  cried  Douglas,  "is  something  to  take 
away  this  emptiness  inside  of  me." 

"Exactly!  And  I'm  telling  you  how.  And  the  rea 
son  I  know  is  because  I  started  out  in  life  with  the  idea 
that  women  and  the  day's  work  were  enough.  Maybe 
they  are  for  a  man  like  your  father,  though  I  doubt  it. 
But  a  man  like  you  or  me  isn't  built  for  promiscuity 
either  in  love  or  in  work.  We  are  the  kind  that  have 
to  choose  a  fine,  straight  line  and  then  hew  to  it,  keep 
our  faith  in  it,  never  leave  it." 

He  paused  for  so  long  a  time  that  Douglas  stirred 
uneasily,  then  said,  "How  did  you  learn  different, 
Peter?" 

"By  doing  all  the  things  that  impulse  and  youth  sug 
gested,  regardless  of  any  suggestions  or  advice,  and 
arriving  at  middle  life  with  my  mind  and  heart  as  empty 
as  yours.  Don't  do  it,  Doug.  It  makes  tragedy  of  old 
age." 

Douglas  rose  slowly.  "I  don't  see  what  in  the  world 
I  can  do  with  myself,"  he  said  heavily,  and  he  rode 
back  to  Charleton's  ranch. 


ii8    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Books  had  perhaps  been  Douglas'  greatest  solace  that 
long  winter.  Charleton  had  a  good  many,  mostly  rep 
resenting  his  young  delvings  into  the  realms  of  agnos 
ticism.  His  later  purchases  simmered  down  to  a  few 
volumes  of  poetry.  There  were  several  of  Shakespeare's 
plays  around  the  cabin  and  these  Douglas  read  again  and 
again.  He  did  not  see  much  of  Little  Marion,  who  was 
a  great  gad-about,  and  who,  when  she  was  at  home,  was 
monopolized  by  Jimmy  Day.  Mrs.  Falkner  he  found 
immensely  companionable.  She  had  a  half -caustic  wit 
which  he  enjoyed,  but  he  liked  best  to  have  her  argue 
with  Charleton  on  what  she  called  his  dog-eat-dog 
theory  of  life. 

He  had  reason,  not  long  after  his  conversation  with 
Peter,  to  recall  the  postmaster's  comments  on  Charleton. 
Very  early  one  morning  Charleton  roused  him  and  told 
him  to  ride  like  forty  furies  after  Grandma  Brown. 

Douglas  obeyed  him  literally  and  arrived  at  the  Brown 
ranch  with  the  Moose  in  a  sweating  lather.  When  he 
banged  on  the  door,  Grandma,  clutching  her  nightdress 
at  the  throat,  put  her  head  out. 

"The  baby,  I  suppose!''  she  snapped.  "Is  Little 
Marion  there?" 

"Yes!" 

"Well,  let  me  dress." 

"Hurry,  please,  Grandma!  Charleton  seemed  awful 
scared." 

"Charleton!  Huh!  I'm  going  to  get  my  proper 
clothes  on  and  drink  my  coffee,  no  matter  how  Charleton 
Falkner  worries.  He  always  was  a  baby.  You  go  sad 
dle  Abe." 

Abe  was  saddled  and  the  Moose  was  breathing  nor 
mally  before  Grandma  appeared,  plump  and  calm.  Nor 


LITTLE  SWIFT  CROSSES  DIVIDE      119 

would  she  allow  Abe  to  be  hurried  out  of  his  usual 
gentle  trot. 

"Douglas,  when  you've  seen  as  many  new  eyes  open 
and  old  eyes  close  as  I  have,  you'll  quit  hurrying,"  she 
said.  "The  Almighty  generally  looks  out  for  mothers, 
anyhow." 

So,  sedately,  in  the  glory  of  the  sun  bursting  over 
the  top  of  the  Indian  range,  they  trotted  up  to  Falknef's 
cabin. 

Charleton  burst  out  of  the  door.  "Where  in  the 
blank-blank  have  you  been?  Hurry,  Grandma!  I've 
been  nearly  crazy!" 

"I'll  bet  your  wife  ain't  crazy."  Grandma  dis 
mounted  with  Doug's  help.  "Now,  Douglas,  you  keep 
this  lunatic  outside,  no  matter  what  he  says  or  does. 
It's  just  the  way  he  acted  when  Little  Marion  came." 
She  stamped  into  the  house  and  closed  the  door. 

"Let's  go  do  the  chores!"  suggested  Douglas. 

"Chores !     Chores !     Don't  you  know  that — " 

"Yes,  I  know  all  about  it,"  interrupted  Doug. 
"Come  on  and  get  the  milking  done.  Are  you  afraid 
your  wife  will  die,  Charleton,  or  what?" 

"Or  what!"  gasped  Charleton.  "You  poor,  half- 
baked  idiot!" 

For  an  hour,  Douglas  sweated  with  Charleton.  Then, 
as  they  rested  for  a  time  on  the  corral  gate,  the  kitchen 
door  opened  and  Grandma's  head  appeared. 

"You  go,  Doug,"  said  Charleton  feebly. 

But  Grandma  did  not  wait.  "It's  a  boy,  Charleton!" 
she  shrieked.  "A  fine,  big  boy!"  And  she  closed  the 
door. 

Charleton  sat  perfectly  still  on  the  fence.  His  lips 
moved  but  for  several  seconds  no  sound  came  forth. 


120    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Then  he  said,  "Charleton  Falkner,  Jr. !  Charleton  Falk- 
ner,  Jr. !  All  my  life  I've  been  waiting  for  this  mo 
ment!"  Tears  were  on  his  cheeks.  "Doug,  you  go  up 
and  ask  'em  how  my  wife  is  and  give  her  my  love." 

Douglas  stared  at  his  mentor,  wonderingly,  unwound 
his  long  legs  from  the  fence  and  crossed  the  yard. 
Grandma  answered  his  timid  rap. 

"Charleton  says  how's  his  wife  and  sends  his  love." 

"O,  he  does!"  witheringly.  "Why  don't  he  go  over 
to  the  post-office  and  telephone  us?  You  tell  him  she 
did  fine  like  she  always  does  everything.  You  folks 
go  up  and  get  Peter  to  give  you  some  breakfast." 

Tm  not  going  near  Peter  till  I  see  the  boy  and  my 
wife!"  called  Charleton. 

Grandma  slammed  the  door. 

"I  wouldn't  go  near  the  post-office,"  said  Douglas, 
established  again  on  the  fence  beside  Charleton. 

"Why  not?" 

"If — if  I  felt  like  you  do,  I'd  want  to  stay  by  myself, 
just  take  a  ride  alone  up  to  the  top  of  Fire  Mesa." 

"I  don't  care  what  I  do  as  long  as  the  boy's  here. 
Charleton  Falkner,  Jr. !  I'll  tell  you,  Doug,  you'll  never 
know  what  happiness  life  can  hold  for  you  till  a  woman 
like  Marion  gives  you  a  son." 

"Say!"  cried  Douglas  in  an  outraged  voice.  "What's 
all  this  talk  you've  been  giving  me  for  a  year  about 
whiskey  and  women  and  horses?" 

Charleton  did  not  hear  him.  "Charleton  Falkner, 
Jr. !"  he  was  murmuring  over  an  unlighted  cigarette. 

It  seemed  a  very  long  time  before  they  were  admitted 
to  the  baby  and  breakfast.  Douglas  was  entirely  un 
impressed  by  the  squirming  red  morsel  of  humanity  that 
Little  Marion  proudly  brought  into  the  kitchen  for  their 
inspection.  But  Charleton  was  maudlin  with  admira- 


LITTLE  SWIFT  CROSSES  DIVIDE      121 

tion.  It  was,  it  seemed,  easily  the  first  child  ever  born 
in  Lost  Chief,  not  excepting  Little  Marion  who  had  been 
a  wonderful  baby  herself. 

Douglas  listened,  eating  his  breakfast  grimly  the  while, 
filled  with  an  embarrassed  consternation  at  last  behold 
ing  his  mentor  with,  as  Peter  had  said,  his  outer  skin  off. 

This,  then,  was  what  Charleton  really  wanted;  not 
whiskey,  or  promiscuous  women,  or  wild  horses,  or 
Omar  Khayham.  What  he  wanted  was  a  son,  bone  of 
his  bone,  flesh  of  his  flesh,  to  carry  on  his  name.  And 
yet  what  had  Charleton  ever  done  to  that  name  except  to 
besmirch  it?  For  Douglas  now  in  his  heart  had  no  il 
lusions  about  the  proper  nomenclature  for  his  mentor's 
mysterious  little  deals. 

"Charleton/'  he  demanded  suddenly,  "do  you  want 
the  kid  to  grow  up  to  be  just  like  you?" 

Charleton  looked  at  Douglas  in  astonishment.  "Like 
me?  Listen,  Doug,  old-timer,  I'm  going  to  spend  the 
rest  of  my  life  licking  out  of  him  anything  I  see  in  him 
like  me!" 

Douglas  gave  up  in  despair  and  went  out  to  finish  the 
chores. 

It  was  a  disjointed  day,  of  course.  In  the  afternoon 
Charleton  went  to  a  choice  gathering  of  spirits  at  the 
post-office;  and  Douglas,  feeling  particularly  lonely  and 
unsettled,  rode  up  the  south  trail  after  three  of  Charle- 
ton's  young  mules  which  had  strayed.  He  felt  some 
how  that,  with  the  dereliction  of  Charleton,  the  last 
hold  he  had  on  reality  had  gone. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  POST-OFFICE  CONFERENCE 

"Ride  with  your  finger  on  the  trigger — but  smile  before 
you  shoot.'" 

— Sheriff  Frank  Day. 

DOUGLAS  had  no  luck  at  all  on  his  mule  hunt.  And 
as  if  to  add  to  his  discomfort,  while  climbing  down 
the  trail  from  the  cemetery,  he  saw  Judith  on  Buster, 
accompanied  by  the  leaping  Wolf  Cub,  overtake  Scott 
Parsons  and  saw  them  race  toward  the  post-office.  Twi 
light  came  on,  with  the  mud  of  the  trail  stiffening  in  the 
frosty  air.  An  overpowering  sense  of  loneliness  urged 
Douglas  across  the  valley  and  brought  him  to  pause 
beside  the  Rodman  corral.  He  dismounted  at  the  buck 
fence  and  stood  for  a  moment  in  the  shadow  of  the 
Moose,  wondering  why  he  had  stopped  here.  He  had 
stood  thus  but  a  few  moments  when  two  riders  came  up 
the  trail.  They  trotted  into  the  door-yard. 

"I  don't  think  I  want  to  dance,  after  all,  Scott,"  said 
Judith's  voice. 

"What  harm  is  there  in  it?"  demanded  Scott. 

"I  make  it  a  point  never  to  go  in  here  except  when 
Inez  is  alone." 

"I  suppose  you're  afraid  to  meet  Doug!"  exclaimed 
Scott.  "He's  here  half  the  time." 

Douglas  leaped  over  the  fence,  rushed  to  Scott's  side 
and  struck  him  twice. 

"That's  a  lie!     Get  down  and  fight  with  your  fists, 

122 


THE  POST-OFFICE  CONFERENCE     123 

you  thief  and  murderer!"  Doug's  voice  was  low  with 
passion. 

There  was  a  quick  movement  of  Scott's  right  hand 
to  his  hip  and  Douglas  felt  a  stinging  pain  in  his  left 
shoulder.  Simultaneously  with  the  shot,  Scott  put  the 
spurs  to  Ginger,  and  Doug  reeled  as  the  mare's  shoulder 
thrust  against  him.  Judith  jumped  from  Buster. 

"Doug,  did  he  get  you?" 

Douglas  had  not  fallen.  He  pushed  the  girl  aside  and 
ran  to  the  plunging  Moose.  Inez  Rodman  called  from 
the  door. 

"Who's  shooting?" 

Still  without  speaking,  Douglas  threw  himself  on  his 
horse  and  was  off  after  the  dim  figure  that  raced  down 
the  west  trail  which  led  to  the  Pass.  He  did  not  heed 
Judith's  call  nor  the  quick  patter  of  hoofs  behind  him. 
On  and  on  through  the  frosty  April  night,  Prince  bark 
ing  joyfully  before,  the  Moose  galloping  at  top  speed, 
the  star  hiding  overhead.  On  past  the  Browns'  noisy 
corral,  past  Falkner's  brightly  lighted  cabin,  and  up  the 
lifting  trail  to  the  Pass.  The  broken  black  line  of  the 
Pass,  usually  so  clean-cut  against  the  stars,  looked 
wavering  and  uncertain.  Douglas  dropped  forward  and 
put  his  arms  about  the  neck  of  the  Moose. 

Once  in  a  while  a  horse  is  born  with  as  much  acumen  as 
a  mule  plus  the  sensibility  of  a  dog.  The  Moose,  when 
he  felt  Doug's  arms  about  his  neck,  dropped  from  a  gallop 
to  a  trot  and  from  a  trot  to  a  walk.  Shortly,  when 
Judith  called,  "Whoa-up,  Moose!"  he  stopped  and  stood 
nickering  uneasily.  Judith  dismounted  and  pulled  the 
reins  over  Buster's  head.  Then  she  ran  up  to  put  her 
hand  on  Doug's  knee. 

"Doug!     Doug!     Where  did  he  get  you?" 

"Don't  hold  me  back,  Jude!"   said  Douglas  thickly. 


124     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"Tie  me  onto  the  Moose  and  leave  me  after  him.  I'm 
going  to  finish  him,  now." 

"You  can't  catch  him.  You're  hurt  too  bad.  Let  me 
take  you  home,  Doug." 

There  was  no  reply  for  a  moment.  The  Moose  moved 
his  head  uneasily  up  and  down.  Then,  breathing  heavily 
and  brokenly,  Douglas  said,  "Not — while  you — think  I 
told — Charleton." 

That  was  the  last  he  knew  for  some  time.  When  he 
returned  to  consciousness,  Peter  and  Judith  were  half 
dragging  him,  half  lifting  him  into  the  post-office. 

"I  don't  care  what  you  want,  Jude,"  Peter  was  saying, 
"you  aren't  going  to  drag  him  another  hour  over  the 
trail.  We'll  get  him  onto  my  bed  and  see  how  bad  off 
he  is." 

"My  shoulder!"  grunted  Douglas. 

"All  right,  Doug!  Now,  Judith,  one  more  heave  onto 
the  bed.  Get  off  there,  Sister.  Jude,  pass  me  that  bottle 
of  whiskey,  then  go  lock  the  outside  door  so's  no  one  can 
bother  till  I've  finished.  Then  come  back  here." 

Judith,  her  eyes  wide  and  brilliant,  her  cheeks  feverish, 
obeyed  without  a  word.  She  drew  off  Doug's  short 
leather  rider's  coat  and  cut  off  his  blood-saturated  shirt 
and  undershirt.  Douglas  watched  her  with  beads  of 
sweat  on  his  lips.  Peter  in  the  meantime  had  thrust 
his  late  supper  back  from  the  front  of  the  stove  and  had 
put  a  couple  of  disreputable  looking  towels  to  boil  in 
the  dishpan.  When  Judith  had  finished  and  Doug's 
beautiful  thin  torso  lay  white  against  the  dingy  Indian 
blanket,  Peter  scoured  his  hands  and  examined  the  hole 
in  the  shoulder  from  which  the  blood  pulsed  slowly. 

"It's  gone  clean  thfough  from  front  to  back,"  said 
Peter  cheerfully.  "Guess  I  can  fix  him.  Eight  years 
in  the  regular  service  is  useful  sometimes.  Come  here 


THE  POST-OFFICE  CONFERENCE     125 

and  hold  him,  Jude.  I'm  going  to  clean  this  hole  with 
peroxide  and  he'll  try  to  climb  the  wall." 

"No,  I  won't!     Go  to  it!"  whispered  Douglas. 

Nor  did  he,  for  as  Peter,  with  a  piece  of  stove-pipe 
wire  he  had  boiled  as  a  probe,  began  his  very  thorough 
process  of  sterilization,  Douglas  quietly  fainted.  When 
he  came  to  his  senses,  his  shoulder  was  bandaged  and 
Judith  was  pulling  an  old  shirt  of  Peter's  over  his  head. 

"Now,  Judith,  make  a  fresh  pot  of  coffee  and  drink 
some  of  it,"  said  Peter.  "You  are  as  white  as  a  sheet. 
How  are  yon,  Doug,  my  boy?" 

"Fine!  Peter,  you  get  me  drunk.  I'm  going  after 
Scott  to-night." 

"Let's  have  the  story."  Peter's  lips  were  grim. 
"You  begin,  Judith." 

Judith  set  the  coffee-pot  on  the  red-hot  stove  and 
perched  on  the  edge  of  the  bed.  She  was  wearing  a 
middy  blouse  of  dull  blue.  It  was  small  for  her  and 
showed  her  fine  shoulder  and  full-muscled  throat  and 
chest.  She  drew  a  deep  breath  and  began  at  once. 

"I  was  riding  past  Inez'  place  with  Scott.  He  teased 
me  to  go  in  for  a  dance.  When  I  wouldn't  go,  he  asked 
me  if  I  was  sore  at  Inez  because  Douglas  spent  half  his 
time  there  with  her.  Doug  must  have  been  behind  his 
horse.  He  came  out  like  a  crazy  man,  called  Scott 
a  liar  and  told  him  to  come  down  and  fight,  and  hit 
him.  Scott  drew  on  him  and  shot  him.  Then  he  rode 
away  like  mad,  and  Doug  after  him.  I  followed  and 
caught  Doug  part  way  up  the  Pass  and  brought  him 
here." 

Judith  paused  and  Peter  turned  to  Douglas.  "All 
correct,  Doug?" 

But  the  young  rider  was  staring  at  Judith.  "Did  you 
believe  Scott,  Judith?"  he  demanded. 


126     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"Hovr  do  I  know  what  you've  been  up  to  ?  You  were 
there  to-night." 

"I  hadn't  seen  Inez.  I  haven't  been  near  her  place 
since  I  made  you  a  promise,  once.  I  went  over  to-night 
because  I  was  discouraged.  I'd  made  up  my  mind  that 
there  wasn't  anything  real  about  anybody.  Even  Charle- 
ton  isn't  real.  Now,  Peter,  you  give  me  a  quart  of 
whiskey  and  help  me  onto  the  Moose.  I'll — " 

"You'll  calm  down,  that's  what  you'll  do,"  said  Judith 
succinctly.  "Won't  he,  Peter?  When  Scott  finds  he 
hasn't  killed  you,  he'll  be  back  and  then  you  can  settle 
with  him.  Peter,  you  telephone  my  mother  I'm  going 
to  stay  down  here  for  a  while  and  take  care  of  Doug." 

Peter  hesitated.  "I  don't  need  you,  Jude,  though  of 
course,  it'll  be  pleasant  to  have  you  here." 

"It's  just  as  well  you  feel  that  way,"  said  Judith, 
"because  I  intend  to  stay,  anyhow." 

Douglas  blinked  round  eyed  at  Judith,  then  smiled 
seraphically  and  closed  his  eyes.  He  was  asleep  before 
Peter  had  succeeded  in  getting  Mrs.  Spencer  on  the  tele 
phone.  All  Lost  Chief  was  on  a  party  line  and  he 
carried  on  his  conversation  not  without  difficulty.  Ju 
dith  sat  listening  with  a  broad  grin  of  appreciation. 

"Hello,  Mary.  This  is  Peter  Knight.  Doug  had  an 
accident  and  I  have  him  here  with  me — O,  Inez  tele 
phoned  you.  Well,  Judith  overtook  him  and  brought 
him  here.  He's  in  no  particular  danger — That  you, 
Grandma?  How's  Marion? — No,  it  was  Scott  drew  on 
Doug. — Wait  a  minute  till  I  finish  with  his  mother. — 
Listen,  Mary!  Don't  get  excited — You  keep  quiet,  Inez. 
— Everybody  butt  out!  Now,  listen,  you  folks,  if  you've 
got  to,  but  don't  interrupt! — Scott  said  something 
that  riled  Doug  and  Doug  hit  him.  Scott  drew  and 
got  Doug  through  the  left  shoulder,  bad,  but  clean,  and 


THE  POST-OFFICE  CONFERENCE     127 

I've  got  the  wound  dressed. — Say,  if  you  women  don't 
keep  quiet,  I'll  sure-gawd  hang  up.  O,  hello,  Charleton ! 
Yes,  Scott  made  a  clean  get-away. — Now,  listen,  Mary. 
I'm  going  to  keep  Judith  here  to-night  to  help  me  and  you 
can  come  down  to-morrow. — Yes,  that  you,  John  ?  Well, 
you  come  along  now,  but  not  Mary.  She's  too  weepy. — 
What's  that  you  say,  Inez?  The  sheriff  and  Jimmy 
gone  out  after  Scott?  When  did  they  start — Hello, 
Mrs.  Day.  Half  an  hour  ago?  That's  good.  Now, 
listen,  John.  You  stop  by  here  before  you  go  crazy. 
Understand  me?  All  right!  Good-night,  every 
body!" 

He  turned  from  the  telephone  with  a  wry  smile. 
"John's  coming  down." 

"He's  been  worse  than  a  wolverine  since  Doug  left," 
said  Judith. 

"How  do  you  and  he  get  along?"  asked  Peter,  sitting" 
down  to  his  belated  supper. 

"O,  I  patch  along  for  Mother's  sake.  But  it's  no  way 
to  live!  I  don't  see  what  Dad  gets  out  of  his  own 
ugliness." 

"You'd  probably  find  out,  if  he'd  tell  you  the  truth, 
that  John  doesn't  consider  himself  ugly- tempered.  He'd 
admit  he  was  firm  and  misunderstood  and  unappreci' 
ated."  Peter  smiled  grimly. 

Judith  laughed.  "Well,  thank  heaven  John  doesn't 
belong  to  me,  and  I  don't  belong  to  him!"  She  sipped 
a  cup  of  coffee  slowly,  her  eyes  on  Douglas  in  his  uneasy 
sleep. 

He  was  still  asleep  when  John  came  in.  He  nodded 
to  Peter  then  strode  over  to  the  bed,  where  he  stood  for 
a  moment  scowling  down  at  his  son,  his  lower  lip  caught 
between  his  teeth.  Douglas  opened  his  eyes. 

"Douglas,"  said  John  hoarsely,  "before  I  go  out  after 


128     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Scott,  tell  me  all  is  straight  between  you  and  me.  Ju 
dith  made  up,  long  ago." 

"That's  a  whopper!"  exclaimed  Judith.  "I'll  never 
forgive  you  as  long  as  I  live!  I'm  just  sticking  round 
for  Mother's  sake.  My  mother  that  once  could  ride  an 
unbroken  mule.  When  I  think  of  that — "  She  paused 
as  Peter  laid  a  hand  on  her  arm. 

"It's  not  a  matter  of  making  up,"  said  Douglas.  "It 
wasn't  a  thing  you  could  make  up.  It  was  just  one 
more  fact  to  knock  a  fellow's  faith  in  life's  being  a 
straight  deal." 

John  did  not  answer  for  a  moment,  but  something 
very  like  a  blush  rolled  over  his  tanned  face.  For  the 
first  time  in  his  life,  perhaps,  he  felt  that  he  had  done 
something  shameful.  But  he  made  no  admission. 

"You'll  come  home  and  let  us  nurse  you,  Doug?"  he 
asked  when  the  blush  had  gone. 

"I  guess  I'd  better  stay  with  Peter.  I  never  want 
to  come  home  while  Judith  believes  I  squealed  to  Charle- 
ton." 

"Jude  doesn't  believe  anything  of  the  kind.  She's  just 
a  flighty,  fool  girl." 

"Thanks,  dear  Father!"  sniffed  Judith. 

John  did  not  glance  at  the  girl.  He  was  watching 
Douglas  eagerly.  "I  thought  it  was  me  that  kept  you 
away  from  home.  I  can  make  Jude  apologize  as  soon 
as  I  get  Scott  back  here.  If  I  clear  that  up,  then  will 
you  come  home,  old  boy?" 

"Yes,  I  guess  so.  But  that  won't  keep  me  from 
settling  with  Scott  for  to-night." 

"Sure!  But  you  get  well,  Dougie!"  John  turned 
from  the  bed,  with  the  look  of  sullenness  wiped  as  by 
magic  from  his  face. 

Douglas   stared  at  Judith.     His  mind  was  confused 


THE  POST-OFFICE  CONFERENCE     129 

but  he  realized  that  the  loneliness  and  despondency  of  the 
day  was  gone.  He  was  blindly  angry  with  Scott  yet 
grateful  to  the  event  which  had  brought  Judith  to  his  aid. 

John  held  a  low- voiced  colloquy  with  Peter  as  to  the 
nature  of  Douglas'  wound;  then  with  a  cheerful  good 
night,  he  went  out.  Douglas  closed  his  eyes. 

"You  fix  yourself  up  a  bed  on  the  floor,  Judith,"  said 
Peter.  "I'll  keep  the  fire  going  and  an  eye  on  Douglas. 
To-morrow  you  can  take  your  turn." 

Judith  answered  pleadingly,  "I'm  not  tired  or  sleepy, 
Peter.  And  I  almost  never  get  a  chance  to  talk  alone 
with  you.  Let  me  sit  up  with  you!" 

Peter's  long,  harsh  face  softened.  "All  right,  Jude! 
We'll  keep  the  old  coffee-pot  going  and  make  a  night  of 
it.  Then—" 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  wordy  altercation 
among  the  dogs  outside.  Judith  cocked  a  knowing  ear. 
"Wolf  Cub's  in  trouble!  I'd  better  let  him  in,  Peter. 
He  and  Sister  will  snarl  and  quarrel  all  night.  They  get 
along  about  like  Dad  and  I  do." 

"It'll  break  Sister's  heart,  but  go  ahead.  I  always 
tell  her,  guests  first,"  said  Peter. 

Judith  opened  the  door  a  crack  and  whistled.  There 
was  a  rush  outside  of  many  paws,  and  Wolf  Cub's  long 
gray  muzzle  appeared  in  the  narrow  orifice.  There  was 
a  scramble,  a  yip  from  Wolf  Cub,  and  he  was  inside, 
licking  Judith's  hand  and  trying  to  climb  into  Peter's 
lap  at  the  same  time.  He  was  two-thirds  grown  now 
and  as  big  as  a  day-old  calf.  Judith  gazed  at  him  with 
utter  pride.  "Isn't  he  a  lamb,  Peter?  Now,  you  get 
over  in  the  corner,  Wolf,  and  don't  let  me  hear  a  sound 
from  you  to-night!" 

The  great  puppy  looked  up  into  her  face  with  ears 
cooked,  then  turned  slowly  and  crept  into  the  corner 


130     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

indicated  and  with  a  groan  lay  down.  Peter  jerked  his 
head  in  admiration. 

"You  are  some  person,  Jude!  Keep  boiling  water 
going.  I'm  going  to  wash  that  wound  of  Doug's  every 
hour.  This  cattle  country  is  the  devil  for  infection." 

"Oughtn't  we  to  take  him  up  to  Mountain  City?" 
asked  Jude,  in  sudden  anxiety.  "We  could  get  Young 
Jeff's  auto." 

"At  the  first  sign  of  trouble,  I  will,"  replied  Peter. 
"But  I  think  I've  had  more  experience  with  gunshot 
wounds  than  Doc  Winston's  had." 

There  was  a  renewed  sound  of  scratching  and  whin 
ing  at  the  door.  Douglas  opened  his  eyes.  "Better  let 
Prince  in  long  enough  to  see  that  I'm  all  right,"  he  said. 

Peter  groaned.  "Another  insult  to  Sister!  How 
ever,  if  he  and  the  pup  won't  fight — " 

"I'll  answer  for  Wolf  Cub."  Judith  tossed  a  warn 
ing  glance  at  the  corner  where  gray  ears  were  twitch 
ing  restlessly. 

Peter  opened  the  door  carefully.  Sister  and  Prince 
stormed  in.  There  was  a  mix-up,  during  which  the  pup 
did  not  stir  from  his  corner  and  Sister  was  shoved  out 
the  door,  snapping  at  Prince  as  she  went.  Prince  wagged 
his  tail  at  Judith  and  Peter,  then  put  his  forepaws 
on  the  bed  and  gazed  anxiously  at  Douglas.  He  sniffed 
at  the  wounded  shoulder,  wriggled  and  gave  a  short, 
sharp  bark. 

Doug  opened  his  eyes.     "It's  all  right,  Prince." 

Prince  licked  Doug's  cheek. 

"So  that's  understood,"  said  Peter,  taking  Prince  by 
the  collar,  "and  you  can  just  step  out  end  talk  it  over 
with  gentle  little  Sister." 

Douglas  closed  his  eyes  again.  Judith  sat  down  on 
the  floor,  her  back  against  the  bed.  Peter  lighted  his 


THE  POST-OFFICE  CONFERENCE     131 

pipe  and  put  a  fresh  panful  of  towels  on  to  boil,  before 
settling  himself  in  his  homemade  armchair. 

"I  understand  Scott  gave  you  a  little  blue  roan  that's 
a  real  bucker,"  he  said. 

"He  didn't  give  him  to  me.  It  was  pay  for  some  work 
I  did  for  hirr;  " 

"Uhuh!     What  do  you  aim  to  do  with  him?" 

"Keep  him  unbroke  for  the  Fourth  of  July  rodeo. 
And,  Peter,  I'm  going  to  enter  my  Sioux  bull  for  some 
stunts." 

"Dangerous  work,  I'd  say.     What  kind  of  stunts?" 

The  young  girl  chuckled.  "You  wait  and  see!  That 
Sioux  weighs  a  good  two  thousand  pounds  and  he  thinks 
he's  a  bear  cub!" 

"Bear  cub !  I  don't  know  what  John  Spencer's  think 
ing  of!"  grunted  Peter. 

"John  doesn't  think.  He  just  feels,"  said  Judith. 
There  was  a  short  silence  which  the  girl  broke  by  say 
ing,  "Peter,  were  you  ever  in  love?" 

The  postmaster  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  stared 
at  Judith's  earnest  eyes,  put  the  pipe  back  and  replied, 
"Yes." 

"How  many  times?" 

"How  many  times?  Can  you  really  be  in  love  more 
than  once,  Judith?" 

"Now,  what's  the  use  of  saying  that  to  me,  Peter? 
I'm  not  a  baby!" 

"In  many  ways  you  are,"  returned  Peter,  serenely. 
"Why  this  interest  in  love?  What's  his  name?" 

"I'm  not  sure  it's  any  one.  But  of  course  I  think  a 
lot  about  it.  You  aren't  laughing,  are  you,  Peter?" 

"God   forbid!     I    feel   much  more  like  crying." 

Judith  smiled  up  at  him,  doubtfully. 

"Crying?" 


132     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"Yes;  you  are  so  young,  Jude.  I  hate  to  think  of 
your  dreams  going  by  you." 

"Well,  I'm  not  such  a  kid  as  you  think  I  am.  I'll  bet 
I  know  all  there  is  to  know  about  love." 

"My  God,  Judith,  you  don't  even  know  the  real  thing 
when  it's  offered  you.  All  you  know  is  the  rot  you've 
seen  all  your  life.  Love!"  Peter  snorted  derisively. 

Judith  gave  a  little  shiver  of  excitement.  "Well,  if 
you  know  so  much  about  love,  Peter,  what  is  it?" 

"I  don't  know  what  it  is,  except  that  all  of  it,  every 
aspect  of  it,  understand,  is  bred  right  here."  He  tapped 
his  forehead.  "It  begins  in  the  brain,  not  in  the  body. 
Love  is  not  lust,  Judith." 

Judith  scowled  thoughtfully.  Peter  let  the  thought 
soak  in ;  then  he  said  ,"And  when  real  love  comes,  it  takes 
possession  of  your  mind  and  turns  it  into  heaven  and 
hell." 

"Is  that  the  way  it  came  to  you,  Peter  ?" 

"Yes!" 

"How  many  times?" 

"Twice.     And  I  wouldn't  want  to  endure  it  again." 

"There's  a  poem  like  that,"  said  Judith,  somewhat 
blnshingly.  "Do  you  mind  poetry?  I  read  lots  of  it." 

"One  should  at  sixteen,"  returned  the  postmaster. 
"No,  I  don't  mind  poetry.  What  were  you  thinking  of?" 

Judith,  still  blushing,  gave  a  cautious  glance  at  the  bed 
and  began: 

"He  who  for  love  hath  undergone 

The  worst  that  can  befall, 
Is   happier   thousandfold   than  he 
Who  never  loved  at  all. 

A  grace  within  his  soul  hath  reigned 

Which  nothing  else  can  bring. 
Thank  God  for  all  that  I  have  gained 

By  that  high  suffering !" 


THE  POST-OFFICE  CONFERENCE     133 

Peter,  watching  Judith  with  something  deeply  sad  in 
his  blue  eyes,  nodded  when  she  had  finished.  "Youth!" 
he  muttered.  "Youth!" 

"Do  you  believe  it,  Peter?"  demanded  Judith. 

"Yes,  I  do.  Girl,  how  much  high  suffering  will  you 
get  out  of  your  goings  on  with  Scott?" 

"None  at  all,  Peter." 

"I  wish  I  were  twenty  years  younger,"  said  Peter. 

"If  you  were  twenty  years  younger  you  wouldn't  be  as 
wise  as  you  are  now." 

"And  what  happiness  has  wisdom  brought  me?"  ex 
claimed  Peter. 

"It  must  be  mighty  fine  to  really  know  things,"  said 
Judith. 

"What  kind  of  things?" 

"O,  love  and  all  that  kind  of  thing." 

"I'd  like  a  drink  of  water,  please!"  Douglas  opened 
his  eyes. 

"Have  you  been  listening,  Douglas?"  demanded  Judith. 

"I  don't  think  I  missed  any  of  it,"  Doug  smiled. 
"You're  growing  up,  Jude." 

Judith  tossed  her  head.  "I  think  it  was  rotten  of  you 
to  listen  to  my  conversation  with  another  man!"  And 
although  she  and  Peter  talked  in  a  desultory  way  until 
dawn,  the  vasty  subject  of  love  was  not  mentioned  again. 

About  ten  o'clock  the  next  morning  Charleton  Falk- 
ner  came  to  see  Douglas.  He  hardly  had  established 
himself  when  the  thunder  of  many  hoofs  sounded  with 
out,  a  wrangling  of  dogs  began,  and  John  Spencer  thrust 
open  the  door  to  Peter's  living  quarters.  He  was  spat 
tered  with  mud  from  head  to  foot.  So  was  Scott  Par 
sons,  who  followed  him,  as  well  as  Sheriff  Frank  Day 
and  Jimmy  Day,  who  brought  up  the  procession. 


134     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Judith,  who  had  been  washing  dishes,  hastily  dumped 
the  dish-water  out  of  the  window.  Charleton,  with  his 
familiar,  sardonic  grin,  propped  Douglas  up  on  a  pillow. 

"What' re  you  bringing  him  in  here  for,  John?"  de 
manded  Peter  harshly.  "Doug's  in  no  state  for  a  row." 

"I  don't  know  why  not!"  exclaimed  Douglas  coolly. 
"I  don't  have  to  talk  or  listen  with  my  shoulder. 
Where'd  you  pick  him  up,  Dad?" 

"Never  mind  that!"  replied  John  impatiently.  "He's 
here.  What  do  you  want  done  with  him,  Doug?" 

All  eyes  focused  on  Scott.  In  mud-spattered  chaps 
and  leather  coat,  his  sombrero  on  the  back  of  his  head, 
a  cigarette  hanging  from  his  hard,  handsome  mouth, 
Scott  leaned  easily  against  the  table,  eying  Judith. 
Douglas  looked  from  Scott  to  Judith  and  from  Judith 
out  of  the  window  where  beyond  the  yellow  green  of 
rabbit  bush  that  carpeted  the  valley  there  lay  the  green 
shadow  of  the  Forest  Reserve.  After  a  moment'- :- 
thought  he  said: 

"What  made  you  draw  on  me  like  that,  Scott?" 

"I  thought  you'd  pulled  your  gun." 

"I  punched  you  right  and  left.  You  knew  I  hadn't 
pulled  a  gun.  As  far  as  I'm  concerned,  you're  too  free 
and  easy  with  that  six-shooter  of  yours." 

"Me,  too,"  agreed  the  sheriff,  scratching  Prince's  ear. 

"He's  the  gun  pullingest  guy  in  the  Rockies,"  vol 
unteered  Jimmy. 

"All  I  want  to  say,"  Doug  announced,  "is  that  when 
I  get  use  of  my  shooting  arm  again,  I'm  going  to  pot 
Scott  on  sight." 

Peter  looked  at  Douglas'  tanned  face  beneath  the 
tumbled  golden  hair. 

"Let's  sit  down,"  said  Peter,  "and  go  over  this  thing 
carefully.  Scott's  leading  with  the  wrong  foot  in  this 


THE  POST-OFFICE  CONFERENCE     135 

valley,  but  I  don't  know  as  shooting  him  on  sight  is 
the  answer." 

Scott  and  Jimmy  perched  on  the  table,  John  and 
Judith  on  the  foot  of  the  bed.  The  others  found  chairs. 
Doug  stared  at  Peter,  at  first  with  resentment,  then  with 
an  air  of  curiosity. 

"Don't  you  try  any  soft  stuff,  Peter!"  protested  John. 
"Scott's  worn  his  welcome  out  in  Lost  Chief  and  that's 
all  there  is  to  it." 

"My  folks  came  here  a  year  before  yours  did,  John," 
retorted  Scott.  "I've  got  as  good  a  right  in  this  valley 
as  anybody." 

"Nobody  that  makes  a  nuisance  of  himself  has  got 
any  rights  in  this  valley,"  asserted  Douglas.  "I  sup 
pose  you  think  because  your  grandfather  killed  Indians 
here  you've  got  a  right  to  shoot  white  men.  Well,  sir, 
I'm  going  to  teach  you  different." 

"Pot-shooting  at  him  isn't  going  to  teach  him  any 
thing  except  perhaps  what  is  over  the  Great  Divide, 
Doug,"  said  Peter  dryly. 

Scott  laughed  sardonically. 

"The  law  has  got  something  to  say  in  this  case," 
announced  the  sheriff,  lighting  a  small  black  pipe. 

"No,  it  hasn't,"  exclaimed  Douglas;  "not  if  I  don't 
want  it  to." 

"You  aren't  the  whole  of  Lost  Chief,  Doug,"  said 
Charleton.  "I've  got  a  small  grudge  to  settle  with  Scott, 
myself." 

"And  I've  got  several,"  added  John. 

"Enjoy  yourself,  folks,"  suggested  Scott,  winking 
openly  at  Judith  over  the  cigarette  he  was  lighting. 

This  infuriated  John.  "Jude,  you  clear  out!  Scott, 
you  blank-blank — " 

Douglas  flung  up  a  protesting  hand.     "O,  cut  that, 


136     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Dad !  Judith,  you  stay  right  where  you  are.  You're 
at  the  bottom  of  this  whole  trouble  and  I  want  you  to 
see  and  hear  it." 

"Draw   it  mild,  Douglas!"  protested  the  postmaster. 

"Don't  bother  about  me,"  said  Jude.  "I  sure-gawd 
can  take  care  of  myself." 

"What  happens  next?"  inquired  Jimmy  Day. 

Nobody  spoke  for  a  moment;  then  very  deliberately, 
Peter  turned  to  the  sheriff. 

"You  remember  Doug's  mother,  don't  you,  Frank? 
I  can't  help  thinking  how  much  he  looks  like  her,  to 
day,  although  he's  the  image  of  John." 

"Remember  her!  I  tried  for  five  years  to  get  her  to 
marry  me.  But  her  old  dad  wouldn't  stand  for  it." 

"You  mean  she  couldn't  see  you  because  of  me, 
Frank!"  exclaimed  John,  a  sudden  light  in  his  handsome 
eyes. 

Douglas  again  favored  the  postmaster  with  a  con 
templative  stare. 

"Some  old  wolf,  her  dad,  I've  heard,"  Peter  went  on. 

"He  was,"  agreed  the  sheriff.  "He  ran  the  valley 
and  he  ran  it  right.  Every  Fourth  of  July  he  made  a 
speech  about  making  Lost  Chief  the  Plymouth  Rock  of 
the  West." 

Charleton  Falkner  roared.  "I  rememer  those 
speeches !" 

Peter  was  grinning.  "But  in  spite  of  them,  from 
what  I've  heard  I  believe  he  came  mighty  near  being  a 
great  man,  old  Bill  Douglas." 

"What    did   he   lack?"    demanded   Douglas    suddenly. 

"Religion!"  answered  Peter,  promptly. 

"Religion?  What's  that?"  asked  John  with  a  guffaw. 
"You  never  had  any,  Peter." 

"Right!"  agreed  Peter.     "Worse  luck  for  me  that  I 


THE  POST-OFFICE  CONFERENCE     137 

didn't  have  that  kind  of  a  mind.  But  I  know  any  kind 
of  a  social  idea  fails  without  it.  And  I  know  if  old 
Bill  Douglas  had  built  a  church  up  there  beside  the 
schoolhouse,  the  chances  are  that  Scott  wouldn't  have 
plugged  Douglas  last  night.  And  mind,  I  don't  be 
lieve  in  God,  or  the  hereafter,  or  any  of  the  dope  they 
drug  you  with." 

"What  the  hell  are  you  driving  at,  Peter?"  demanded 
Charleton. 

"Say,"  shouted  John,  "is  this  a  trial  or  a  sermon?" 

"It's  neither,"  replied  Peter.  "We're  just  talking 
things  over.  My  idea  is  that  Doug  shall  sort  of  sit  in 
judgment  on  Scott  and  the  rest  of  us  abide  by  his 
decision." 

"Now,  listen  here!"  exclaimed  Scott.  "This  may  be 
a  funny  joke,  but  I  don't  see  it!" 

Charleton  laughed.  "I'm  with  you,  Peter.  Only  that 
won't  pay  my  grudge." 

John  laughed  too,  with  a  little  glance  of  pride  toward 
his  son's  set,  white  face.  "I'm  on!  Make  it  include 
his  leaving  Jude  alone." 

"Aw,  you  folks  act  plumb  loco !"  snarled  Scott. 

"Wait  and  see!  Wait  and  see!"  protested  Peter. 
"And  while  Doug  thinks  it  over,  let  me  add  something 
to  what  we  were  saying  about  old  Bill  Douglas.  He 
used  to  act  as  a  kind  of  unofficial  judge  in  the  valley?" 

The  others   nodded. 

"Did  he  ever,"  Peter  went  on,  "make  an  important 
decision  that  he  didn't  try  to  look  to  the  good  and  the 
future  of  Lost  Chief?  At  least,  I  gathered  that  from 
the  things  Doug's  mother  used  to  tell  me  about  the  old 
man's  pipe  dreams." 

John  spoke  soberly.  "He  was  a  just  man.  They 
don't  make  'em  that  way  any  more." 


138     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"He  was  more  than  just,"  insisted  Peter.  "He  was 
forward  looking.  But  he  led  with  the  wrong  foot.  He 
laughed  at  the  church." 

"Sure  he  did,"  agreed  Charleton.  "Why  not?  Re 
member  old  Fowler?  A  fine  sample  of  the  church!" 

Peter  rose  and  paced  the  floor  a  minute.  "Let  me 
tell  you  folks  something.  I  laugh  at  the  cant  they've 
wrapped  the  church  up  in.  But  I  don't  laugh  at  the 
system  of  ethics  Christ  taught.  I'm  here  to  tell  you 
folks,  He  put  out  the  finest,  most  workable  system  of 
ethics  the  world  has  ever  known.  And  folks  can't  live 
together  without  a  system  of  ethics." 

"It's  a  wonder  you  don't  subscribe  to  'em,  Peter," 
jibed  Charleton. 

"It's  too  late.  But  that  don't  say  that  I  don't  realize 
clearly  that  I've  failed  in  life  because  of  it.  What  do 
you  say  to  that,  Charleton?" 

Charleton's   lips  twisted. 

"Why  all  the  Saints  and   Sages  who  discuss'd 
Of  the  two  Worlds  so  wisely — they  are  thrust 
Like  foolish  Prophets  forth :  their  Words  to   Scorn 
Are  scattered  and  their  mouths  are  stopt  with  Dust." 

John  laughed.  Peter  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said, 
^Suit  yourselves.  As  for  me  I  believe  everybody  is  des 
tined  sooner  or  later  to  deal  squarely  with  right  and 
wrong.  Sooner  or  later  every  community  has  to  wrestle 
with  the  question  of  social  ethics,  or  fail.  Fate  has 
written  it  of  Lost  Chief.  You'll  see." 

"I'm  with  you  there."  Frank  Day  spoke  soberly. 
"I  believe  in  fate.  You  can't  ride  these  hills  and  not. 
It's  all  written  beforehand." 

Douglas  cleared  his  throat.  "I've  got  an  idea,"  hesi 
tatingly.  "I've  been  thinking  for  a  long  time  that  some 
body  in  Lost  Chief  that  has  a  homestead  right  ought 


THE  POST-OFFICE  CONFERENCE     139 

to  homestead  that  shoulder  of  Lost  Chief  mountain  that 
cuts  off  Elijah  Nelson  from  our  valley.  If  we  don't, 
he  will.  I  can't  do  it  because  I'm  not  of  age.  But 
Scott  can,  and  he  can  find  plenty  of  work  for  that 
six-shooter  of  his,  worrying  the  Mormons  and  keeping 
'em  out  of  Lost  Trail.  I'll  agree  to  let  Scott  alone  if 
he'll  let  me  alone  and  undertake  that  job." 

There  was  silence,  Scott  staring  at  Douglas  with  a 
mixture  of  contempt,  belligerency  and  surprise  in  his 
face. 

"But,"  protested  John,  "that's  no  punishment,  and  it 
don't  say  a  thing  about  Judith!" 

Douglas  shifted  his  feet  impatiently.  "I'm  not  going 
to  punish  any  guy  for  running  after  Jude.  That's  a 
fair  fight.  What  I'm  sore  about  is  his  lying  about  me 
and  shooting  at  me  when  I  wasn't  armed." 

"I'd  planned,"  said  Scott  gruffly,  "to  try  to  buy  back 
our  old  place  from  the  Browns.  They've  got  more  than 
they  can  carry  and  I'm  sure  getting  nowhere  renting 
that  piece  from  Charleton." 

"And,"  suggested  Charleton  with  a  grin,  "if  you 
encourage  those  broncos  of  yours,  they  each  might  have 
three  or  four  slicks  every  spring,  and  if  you  keep  up 
practice  with  the  blacksnake  on  the  old  milch  cow — " 

"Dry  up,  Charleton!"  exclaimed  Peter.  "What  do 
you  think  of  the  idea,  Frank?" 

"It  ain't  bad,"  answered  the  sheriff  slowly,  "though 
I  ain't  afraid  of  the  Mormons  coming  in." 

"That's  where  you  are  wrong,"  said  Charleton. 
"They  are  going  to  get  Lost  Chief  Valley  by  any 
straight  or  crooked  method  they  can  think  up.  With 
an  ornery  devil  like  Scott  to  climb  over,  they  won't  try 
to  come  in  that  entrance,  that's  sure." 

"How  about  it,  Scott?"  asked  the  sheriff. 


140     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"I'd  just  as  soon,  and  I'd  just  as  soon  say  that  I  sure 
went  crazy  when  Doug  gave  me  those  two  good  ones 
and  I  did  what  I  wouldn't  have  done  if  I'd  taken  time 
to  think." 

"Well,"  grinned  Douglas,  "nobody  is  going  to  kick 
if  you  don't  take  time  to  think  over  in  the  Mormon 
valley." 

Sheriff  Day  rose  with  a  laugh.  "I've  got  to  get  to 
the  alfalfa  field  I'm  plowing.  Come  on,  Jimmy." 

Jimmy  rose  to  his  good  six  feet  of  height  and  pulled 
on  his  gloves.  "I  feel  like  I'd  been  praying,"  he  said. 
"That  is,  if  I'd  ever  heard  a  prayer,  I'd  say  so."  He 
made  a  face  at  Judith  and  followed  his  father. 

John  Spencer  looked  from  Douglas  to  Peter  and  from 
Peter  to  Charleton  with  a  little  lift  of  his  chin.  Then  he 
said,  "When  are  you  coming  home,  Doug?" 

"Not  till  Jude  believes  I  didn't  tell  on  her  last  sum 
mer." 

"I'll  get  the  truth  out  of  Scott!"  exclaimed  John, 
drawing  his  six-shooter. 

"Aw,  put  it  up,  John,  you  feather-brain  you,"  drawled 
Scott.  "I  told  Charleton,  Jude.  He  paid  me  for  the 
information.  I  never  supposed  he'd  hold  it  against  a 
girl." 

Judith  turned  very  red.  "Scott  Parsons,  I  hope  you 
go  up  that  Mormon  valley  and  that  they  get  you,  you 
blank-blank  double-crosser  you !" 

Scott  shrugged  his  shoulders.  Judith  glared  at  each 
of  the  men  in  turn.  "I  hate  you  all,  every  one  of  you!" 
she  cried.  "What  chance  has  a  girl  among  you?  You're 
just  like  a  lot  of  coyotes  after  a  rabbit!" 

"Rabbit!     Say  lynx-cat,  Jude!"  laughed  John. 

Judith  tossed  her  head  and  rushed  out  of  the  room. 


THE  POST-OFFICE  CONFERENCE     141 

The  men  laughed  hugely  as  she  banged  the  door.  Only 
Douglas  remained  sober. 

"Well,"  said  John,  "I  suppose  you'll  be  home  in  a 
day  or  two,  Doug." 

"If  Charleton  can  find  some  one  I  will  be." 

"I'll  give  him  half  time,"  volunteered  Scott. 

"Nothing  doing!"  replied  Charleton.  "Nobody  gets 
a  second  chance  to  double-cross  me!" 

Scott  flushed  angrily  but  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
Charleton  went  on,  "Of  course,  Charleton,  Jr.  won't 
be  able  to  ride  for  a  month  or  so  but  Jimmy  Day  will 
help  me  out  in  the  meantime." 

"Son   smoke  yet?"   asked   Peter. 

"No;  I  have  to  spend  so  much  time  doing  jury  duty 
on  my  neighbors,  I  haven't  got  round  to  teaching  him. 
He  weighs  a  big  ten  pounds,  the  little  devil." 

"Come  on,   let's  get  out,"  said   Scott. 

They  clanked  out,  leaving  Douglas  alone  with  Peter, 
and  he  fell  into  a  long  sleep. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

JUDITH  AT  THE  RODEO 

"If  you  break  the  heart  of  a  thoroughbred,  she  doesn't 
even  make  a  good  cart  horse." 

— Mary  Spencer. 

LATE  in  the  afternoon,  when  Douglas  awoke,  Judith 
was  sitting  beside  the  bed,  chin  in  palm.  Peter  was 
not  to  be  seen.  Douglas  stared  at  the  young  girl  until 
her  gaze  lifted  from  the  floor  and  she  smiled  at  him. 

"Judith,"  he  said,  "it's  been  a  long  time,  hasn't  it?'' 

Judith  nodded.  "I've  been  sitting  here  thinking  how 
much  you've  changed.  You  were  just  a  boy,  last  sum 
mer.  Now  you  look  like  a  man,  lying  there." 

"You've  changed  yourself.  Jude,  you're  going  to  be 
very  beautiful." 

Judith  chuckled.  "You  and  Scott  agree  on  one  point, 
then!" 

"Jude !  Honestly,  I  don't  see  how  you  can  stand  that 
crook!" 

"He's  a  woman's  man,"  said  Judith  shortly. 

"I  can't  see  it!" 

"Don't  let's  quarrel  the  first  thing,  Douglas.  How  is 
Little  Marion?" 

"Same  as  usual.  Did  you  know  that  she  is  engaged 
to  Jimmy  Day?" 

"I  knew  she  ought  to  be,"  said  Judith  bluntly. 
"They  sure  make  a  good-looking  pair!  When  will 
they  be  married?" 

"When  Jimmy  has  got  a  good  start  with  his  herd. 

142 


JUDITH  AT  THE  RODEO  143 

Judith,   Charleton  isn't  a  bit  like  I   thought  he  was." 

"He's  an  ornery  mean  devil,  if  you  ask  me,"  said 
Judith  succinctly.  "He's  the  worst  influence  that  ever 
came  into  your  life." 

"Did  Peter  say  that?" 

"No;  I  said  it.  You  are  too  good  to  waste  on 
Charleton.  What  has  finally  waked  you  up  about 
him?" 

"He's  always  talked  to  me  against  marriage  and 
women  and  children  and  everything  like  that.  Said 
awful  hard  things  about  'em,  Jude.  He  really  got  me 
to  the  point  this  winter  where  I  felt  as  if  marriage  was 
wrong.  But  do  you  know,  when  the  boy  was  born, 
yesterday  morning,  he  just  went  plumb  loco.  He  cried 
and  was  sentimental  like  these  young  fathers  you  read 
about  in  books." 

Judith's  great  eyes  widened  incredulously.  "He  was !" 
She  turned  this  over  in  her  mind  for  some  time,  then 
shook  her  head.  "I  give  it  up.  I  can't  understand  men 
at  all.  I  thought  I  had  Charleton's  number.  I  always 
did  agree  with  him  about  marriage." 

Douglas  drew  a  quick  breath.  If  men  were  difficult 
to  understand,  how  much  more  so  were  women,  par 
ticularly  of  Judith's  type!  One  never  got  to  the  end  of 
them. 

"How  do  you  mean  that,  Judith?"  he  asked. 

"I  mean  I'd  rather  be  dead  than  married.  Just  look 
at  the  couples  we  know,  Doug!  Just  look  at  "em!" 

"I'm  looking  at  'em!  What's  the  trouble?"  demanded 
Doug. 

"They  don't  love  each  other  any  more.  That's  all!" 
Judith  tossed  her  head  knowingly. 

"Pshaw !     How  do  you  know  ?" 

"Because  I've  watched  them   for  years   and   studied 


144     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

about  it.     There  is  nothing  in  marriage,   Doug.     No, 
sir!" 

"Pshaw!  And  you  were  sitting  and  quoting  love 
poetry  to  Peter  last  night!" 

"Yes,  I  was!  Certainly!  I'm  not  idiot  enough  to 
say  there's  no  such  thing  as  love.  But  I  do  know  that 
a  few  years  of  marriage  kills  it.  Yes,  sir!" 

Douglas  eyed  her  wistfully.  She  was  so  vivid.  Yes, 
vivid,  that  was  the  word.  Her  eyes  glowed  as  if  her 
brain  glowed  too,  and  her  lips  were  so  full  of  meanings, 
too  changing  and  too  subtle  for  him  to  read.  If  only 
they  could  work  out  this  strange  enigma  of  life  together! 

"They  can't  hold  out  against  the  years,"  Judith 
repeated  dreamily.  "It's  as  if  love  was  too  delicate  for 
every-day  use.  They  get  over  caring." 

"I  wonder  why?"  said  Douglas. 

"I  think  people  get  sick  of  each  other,  Doug!  Why, 
I  think  a  lot  more  of  you,  since  you've  been  away  for 
a  few  months.  And  I  get  tired  of  my  own  mother, 
bless  her  dear  old*  heart,  and  I  love  her  to  death.  But 
she's  my  mother  and  I  can't  stop  loving  her.  But  I 
certainly  couldn't  stand  a  man  around  the  house,  year 
after  year.  No  marriage  for  me!  No,  sir!" 

"But  what  will  you  do  about  love?"  asked  Douglas. 

Judith's  burning  eyes  grew  soft.  "Cherish  it,"  she 
answered  in  a  low  voice.  "Keep  it  forever.  Never 
murder  it  by  marriage.  It's  the  most  wonderful  thing 
that  comes  into  human  life." 

Douglas  smiled  sadly.  "You  talk  as  if  you  were  a 
thousand  years  old,  Judith,  on  the  one  hand  and  like 
a  baby  on  the  other.  What  will  you  do.  marry  with 
out  love?  Somehow  the  children  have  got  to  be  cared 
for  by  responsible  parties." 


JUDITH  AT  THE  RODEO  145 

"Responsible  parties!"  Jude  was  derisive.  "Do  you 
call  Dad  a  responsible  party?" 

"He's  fed  and  clothed  us." 

"What  does  that  amount  to?"  said  Judith  largely. 
"An  orphan  asylum  would  do  that.  The  kind  of 
parents  kids  need  are  the  ones  that  will  answer  your 
questions.  I  mean  the  real  questions.  The  ones  we 
don't  dare  to  ask." 

"About  life  and  sex  and  all  those  things!"  Doug 
nodded  understandingly.  There  was  silence,  then  Doug 
shook  his  head.  "I  don't  know  how  things  would  go 
along  without  marriage.  Just  you  wait  until  you  fall 
in  love  and  see  how  you  feel.  You'll  want  to  marry 
just  like  all  the  rest  of  us." 

"Never!     I'm  with  Inez  on  that!" 

"Inez!" 

"Yes,  Inez !  She's  got  more  sense  about  living  than 
all  the  women  in  this  valley  put  together.  And  she 
knows  life." 

Douglas  sighed.  "What  are  some  of  Inez'  ideas 
about  marriage?" 

"Well,  she  just  says  it  won't  do!  She  says  that  the 
children  have  got  to  be  taken  care  of  but  that  it  isn't 
fair  to  put  the  curse  of  marriage  on  parents.  And  she 
says  her  way  isn't  the  answer,  either,  but  that  anyhow 
it's  honest,  which  is  a  darn  sight  more  than  a  lot  of 
marriages  in  Lost  Chief." 

Judith  paused  to  take  breath  and  Douglas  asked, 
"Say,  now  listen,  Jude,  was  Inez  ever  in  love?" 

"She  says  she's  in  love  right  now  but  she  won't  say 
who  he  is." 

"I  don't  believe  she  knows  what  love  is !  Her  ideas 
aren't  worth  anything.  I've  lost  faith  in  thece  folks  that 


146     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

tell  you  they  know  life.  They're  exactly  like  the  rest 
of  us  under  their  skins.  I'm  getting  to  believe  that  we 
all  get  happiness  in  the  same  way  and  over  mighty  few 
things.  Loving  and  having  children,  that's  about'all." 

"Inez  says  it's  nothing  of  the  kind;  that  the  only  way 
to  be  happy  is  to  know  what  is  beautiful  when  you  see 
it." 

"I  suppose  that's  smart,"  said  Douglas  crossly,  "but 
I  haven't  any  idea  what  it  means." 

"I  know  what  it  means;  but  you  never  will  until  you 
can  ride  across  Fire  Mesa  with  your  heart  aching  because 
it's  so  beautiful." 

"I  don't  see  where  in  the  world  you  get  the  idea  that 
I  don't  see  the  beauty  in  things!"  protested  Douglas. 
"I  can't  gush  like  a  girl  and  quote  poetry,  but  this  sure 
is  a  lovely  country  to  me.  And  I  want  my  children's 
children  to  have  this  valley  and  hold  it  till  the  very  bones 
of  their  bodies  are  made  out  of  the  dust  of  Lost  Chief. 
That's  how  I  feel  about  these  old  hills.  More  than  that, 
I  can  see  how  a  marriage  here  in  Lost  Chief  might  be 
a  life-long  dream  of  beauty." 

Judith  looked  at  Douglas  with  astonishment  not  un 
mixed  with  admiration.  But  she  returned  sturdily  to 
her  own  line  of  defense. 

"Doug,  do  you  see  any  beautiful  marriage  around 
here?" 

Douglas  stared  at  her  tragically,  then  answered  with 
a  groan:  "No,  I  don't!  But,"  with  new  firmness, 
"that's  not  saying  I  don't  firmly  believe  I  couldn't  make 
marriage  a  lovely  thing." 

"Why,  do  you  think  you  are  cleverer  than  anybody 
else?"  " 

"Not  clever,  but — but—  Douglas  paused,  power 
less  to  tell  Judith  of  that  something  within  him  that 


JUDITH  AT  THE  RODEO  147 

suddenly  told  him  that  his  fate  was  to  bring  to  Lost 
Chief  the  thing  of  the  soul  it  never  had  had.  How  or 
what  this  was  to  be,  he  did  not  know. 

After  a  time,  he  said  softly,  "Judith,  were  you  ever 
in  love?" 

Judith  returned  his  look  with  a  curiously  impersonal 
glance.  "I'm  not  sure,"  she  answered  slowly.  "Not 
what  Inez  calls  love,  that's  sure." 

"Isn't  there  any  other  woman  in  Lost  Chief  that  could 
give  you  ideas  except  Inez?"  asked  Douglas  impatiently. 

"What  woman  would  you  suggest?"  Judith  waggled 
one  foot  airily  and  tossed  her  head. 

"Charleton's  wife.  She  has  brain  and  she's  interest 
ing." 

"She's  too  old.  I  mean  she  looks  at  everything  from 
an  old-fashioned  viewpoint.  I  wouldn't  care  what  her 
age  was  if  she  could  just  see  things  the  way  they  look 
to  a  person  sixteen  or  seventeen  years  old.  Now,  Inez 
is  awfully  modern." 

"Modern!"  snorted  Douglas.  "Where'd  you  read 
that?  It  sure  is  a  new  word  for  Inez'  kind!" 

Judith  flushed  angrily  but  was  denied  a  retort,  for 
Peter  suddenly  appeared  in  the  door. 

"What  in  the  world  do  you  children  mean  by  this 
kind  of  talk?"  he  shouted.  "I  couldn't  help  hearing 
while  I  was  sorting  mail.  What  do  you  mean  by 
thinking  such  thoughts,  Judith?  Have  you  the  nerve 
to  admit  that  you  are  patterning  your  ideas  on  a  woman 
like  Inez?" 

"I  don't  care  what  she  is,"  replied  Judith  obstinately. 
"She's  the  only  woman  in  Lost  Chief  who  can  talk 
about  anything  but  babies  and  cattle  raising.  And  more 
than  that,  and  anyhow,  I  like  her." 

Peter  took  a  turn  or  two  up  and  down  the  room. 


148     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"I  don't  object  so  much  to  your  liking  her,"  he  said, 
"as  I  do  to  your  absorbing  her  cynical  ideas." 

"Pshaw,  Peter!  I  don't  notice  you're  displaying  a 
wife  and  a  happy  home  for  us  to  copy  after!"  sniffed 
Judith.  "What  I  want  you  old  people  to  do  is  to  show 
me  by  example  how  practical  and  true  all  these  fine  old 
precepts  are  that  you  are  so  free  about  laying  down 
for  us  kids.  Where's  your  happy  marriage,  Peter?" 

Peter's  lips  twisted  painfully.  "My  happy  marriage 
is  in  Limbo,  Judith,  with  the  rest  of  my  dreams.  As  for 
being  old — why,  Jude,  I'm  still  in  my  forties." 

"Forty!"  gasped  Judith. 

"Yes,  forty;  and  if  I  hadn't  been  a  fool  I'd  still  be 
facing  the  most  useful  part  of  my  life.  Heaven  knows, 
children,  I'm  not  offering  myself  or  any  one  else  in  Lost 
Chief  as  an  example  to  you." 

"What  do  you  offer?"  asked  Jude  with  an  impish 
smile. 

Again  Peter  paced  the  room  before  coming  to  pause 
by  Douglas'  pillow. 

"You  both  heard  what  I  said  this  morning  about  the 
lack  of  a  church  in  Lost  Chief.  That's  what  you  chil 
dren  need  for  a  pattern.  Disagree  with  his  creed  as  you 
might,  the  right  kind  of  a  preacher  in  here  could  answer 
your  questions  as  they  should  be  answered.  If  the  church 
doesn't  form  ideals  for  young  people  like  you,  loose 
women  and  loose  men  will." 

"That  might  be  true,  Peter,"  said  Douglas;  "but  I 
don't  see  why  you  should  expect  us  to  believe  the  stuff 
you  can't  believe  yourself." 

Peter  winced,  then  said  gruffly,  "I  don't  know  as  I  do. 
All  I  know  is  that  when  I  was  a  boy  I  went  to  church  on 
Sunday  morning  with  my  mother  and  that  there  was  an 


JUDITH  AT  THE  RODEO  149 

old  vicar  who  would  have  set  me  straight  on  the  things 
you  are  talking  about,  if  I'd  have  let  him." 

"Couldn't  you  believe  what  he  said?"  asked  Douglas. 

"I  never  went  to  him.  I  preferred  my  own  rotten 
ideas.  I — "  He  drew  himself  up  with  a  sudden  expres 
sion  of  disgust.  "Faugh!  How  like  a  fool  I'm  talk 
ing!"  He  stalked  out,  this  time  closing  the  door  of  the 
room  behind  him. 

"I  wonder  who  Peter  really  is?"  said  Judith  in  a  low 
voice. 

Douglas  shook  his  head.  "Dad  says  he's  seen  better 
days.  He  sure  has  suffered  a  lot  over  something  or 
other." 

"I  wish  I  knew  all  about  life  that  he  does !"  exclaimed 
Judith. 

"I  don't  wish  either  of  us  did,"  said  Douglas.  Then 
he  put  out  his  hand  to  touch  Judith's  knee  with  infinite 
tenderness.  "Couldn't  you  manage  to  fall  in  love  with 
me,  Jude  dear?  I'd  stay  your  lover  all  my  life." 

Judith  put  her  hand  over  Douglas'  and  her  fine  eyes 
were  all  that  was  womanly  and  soft  as  she  answered, 
"O  my  dear,  you  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about. 
What  you  promise  is  impossible." 

"But  how  do  you  know,  Judith?  I  am  an  unchang 
ing  sort  of  a  chap.  You  realize  that,  don't  you?" 

Judith  shook  her  head.  "You  don't  know  what  you 
are  promising.  You  can't  force  love  to  stay,  once  it  has 
begun  to  fade." 

"Try  me,  Judith!     Try  me,  dear!" 

Judith  looked  at  him,  lips  parted,  eyes  sad.  "Douglas, 
I'm  afraid !'  she  whispered. 

And  again  the  sense  of  loneliness  flooded  Doug's  heart. 
There  was  a  look  of  remoteness  in  Judith's  expression, 


150     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

a  look  of  honest  fear  that  had  no  response  for  the  fine 
assured  emotion  that  had  held  him  captive  for  so  many 
years. 

The  two  were  still  staring  at  each  other  when  Peter 
returned. 

Doug's  wound  healed  quickly  and  with  no  complica 
tions.  He  remained  with  Peter  for  a  week  or  so,  then 
returned  to  his  home.  Scott  Parsons  began  preparations 
at  once  for  carrying  out  Doug's  sentence  and  for  a  time 
the  post-office  and  the  west  trail  to  Inez'  place  saw  him 
most  infrequently.  The  excitement  over  the  shooting 
having  abated,  Lost  Chief  began  preparations  for  the 
great  event  of  the  year,  the  Fourth  of  July  rodeo. 

All  the  world  knows  the  story  of  a  rodeo,  knows  the 
beauty  and  the  daring  of  both  riders  and  horses,  knows 
the  picturesque  patois  of  the  sand  corral.  But  all  the 
world  does  not  know  of  Judith's  performance  at  this 
particular  rodeo. 

Mary,  lax  and  helpless  enough  on  most  matters  con 
cerning  her  daughter's  conduct,  held  out  on  one  point. 
Judith  could  not  enter  the  Fourth  of  July  rodeo  until 
she  was  at  least  sixteen.  But  now,  at  sixteen,  Judith 
asked  permission  of  no  one.  She  entered  the  exhibition 
with  Buster  and  Sioux  and  Whoop-la,  the  bronco  Scott 
had  given  her. 

The  rodeo  was  held  on  the  plains  to  the  east  of  the 
post-office.  The  Browns  owned  the  great  corral, 
strongly  fenced,  and  with  a  smooth  sandy  floor  bordered 
by  a  grandstand  weathered  and  unpainted  but  still  sturdy 
enough  to  withstand  the  swaying  and  stamping  of  the 
crowd.  Neither  the  Browns  nor  any  other  of  the  Lost 
Chief  families  made  money  out  of  the  exhibition.  It 
was  a  community  affair  in  which  was  felt  an  intense 
pride.  All  Lost  Chief  attended,  of  course,  and  people 


JUDITH  AT  THE  RODEO  151 

came  in  automobiles  and  in  sheep  wagons  and  in  the 
saddle  from  the  ranches  for  a  radius  of  a  hundred  miles. 

Burning  heat  and  cloudless  heavens,  the  high  west  wind 
and  the  nameless  exhilaration  and  urge  of  the  Rockies  at 
seven  thousand  feet,  this  was  th:  day  of  the  rodeo.  The 
exhibition  began  at  ten  in  the  morning  and  lasted  all  day, 
with  an  hour  at  noon  for  dinner. 

There  was  the  usual  roping  and  throwing  of  steers  and 
the  usual  riding  of  bucking  broncos  by  men  and  women 
young  and  old.  Douglas  rode  and  rode  well,  but  he  had 
his  peer  in  Jimmy  Day  and  in  Charleton.  Judith  rapidly 
eliminated  all  the  women  contestants  and  then  began  to 
vie  with  the  men  in  the  riding  of  buckers.  By  four 
o'clock  as  one  of  the  four  best  riders,  bar  none,  she  was 
ready  to  enter  the  last  competition  on  the  program.  This 
was  listed  as  an  original  exhibition  to  be  given  by  each 
of  the  four  best  riders.  Douglas,  Jimmy,  and  Charleton 
were  the  other  contestants.  Judith  entered  first. 

She  trotted  into  the  sand  corral  on  Buster,  leading  the 
blindfolded  Sioux  and  followed  at  a  short  distance  by 
Peter  Knight,  who  was  master  of  ceremonies  for  the  day. 
A  little  murmur  went  through  the  grandstand.  Judith's 
curls  were  bundled  up  under  a  sombrero.  She  wore  a 
man's  silk  shirt  with  a  soft  collar.  It  was  of  the  color 
of  the  sky.  Her  khaki  divided  skirt  came  just  below 
the  knee,  meeting  a  pair  of  high-heeled  riding-boots. 
Her  gauntleted  gloves  were  deep  fringed.  She  rode 
slowly,  silhouetted  against  the  distant  yellow  of  the 
plains.  Sioux,  a  russet  red,  silken  flanks  gleaming  in 
the  sun,  moved  his  head  uneasily,  but  followed  like  a  dog 
on  leash. 

Having  crossed  to  the  north  end  of  the  corral,  Judith 
waited  for  Peter  to  come  up  on  Yankee.  Douglas,  circ 
ling  outside  the  fence  uneasily,  heard  him  say: 


152     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"You  are  a  plumb  fool,  Judith.  Anybody  that  plays 
round  on  foot  with  a  bull  isn't  a  cowman.  It's  a  life 
and  death  matter  with  a  brute  like  Sioux,  and  you  know 
it." 

"You  slip  his  blindfold  off  when  I  dismount,"  she  said, 
and  she  trotted  back  to  the  south  end  of  the  enclosure. 
Here  she  dismounted,  slipped  the  reins  over  Buster's  head 
and  turned  to  face  the  bull.  Peter  jerked  the  blindfold 
from  the  bull's  eyes.  The  great  creature  lifted  his  head 
and  Peter  backed  away.  Judith  spread  her  arms  wide 
and  whistled.  Sioux  snorted,  pawed  the  ground,  and 
started  on  a  thundering  gallop  toward  his  mistress. 

There  was  a  startled  murmur  from  the  grandstand. 
Buster  snorted  and  turned.  Without  moving,  Judith 
gave  a  shrill  whistle.  Buster  wheeled  and  came  back 
to  his  first  position,  where  he  stood  trembling.  On  came 
Sioux,  his  hoofs  rocking  the  echoes,  and  with  every 
apparent  intention  of  goring  his  mistress.  But  ten  feet 
from  Judith  he  pulled  up  with  a  jerk  and  with  stiffened 
fore  legs  slid  to  her  side,  and  rubbed  his  great  head 
against  her  shoulder.  Judith  threw  her  arm  about  his 
neck  and  hugged  him,  white  teeth  flashed  at  the  grand 
stand,  which  rose  to  its  feet  and  shouted. 

Judith  raised  her  hand  for  quiet,  then  leaped  to  Buster's 
saddle  without  touching  the  stirrups.  She  put  the  uneasy 
horse  to  a  slow  trot  and  gave  a  peculiar  soft  whistle  to 
Sioux.  Obediently  he  fell  in  behind  the  horse,  and 
Judith  gave  her  audience  a  unique  exhibition  of  "follow 
your  leader."  Buster  trotted,  galloped,  and  backed. 
Sioux  imitated  him  without  protest,  until  Judith  brought 
up  before  the  grandstand  with  both  animals  kneeling 
on  their  fore  legs,  noses  to  the  sand.  Then  Sioux 
jumped  excitedly  to  his  feet  as  again  applause  broke 
out.  Judith  took  his  lead  rope  now  and  led  him 


JUDITH  AT  THE  RODEO  153 

to  the  middle  of  the  corral  where  she  blindfolded  him 
and  backed  to  Peter.  Peter  strode  across  the  corral 
carrying  a  saddle. 

"Once  more,  Judith,"  he  said,  "I  ask  you  not  to  do 
this." 

"Saddle  him  quick,  Peter.  Then  get  on  Buster  and 
ride  him  off  when  I'm  up." 

Peter  adjusted  the  saddle  as  best  he  could  to  the 
bull's  great  girth  Awhile  Judith  rubbed  the  brute's  fore 
head,  talking  to  him  softly.  Sioux  stood  with  head  low 
ered,  his  red  nostrils  dilating  and  contracting  rapidly. 
But  he  did  not  move.  When  Peter  nodded,  Judith  jerked 
the  blindfold  free  and  leaped  into  the  saddle.  Sioux 
brought  his  mighty  fore  legs  together  and  leaped  into 
the  air.  Peter  hesitated  a  fraction  of  a  minute  before 
putting  his  foot  into  Buster's  stirrup,  and  the  bull's  leap 
brought  him  against  the  flank  of  the  uneasy  horse. 
Buster  reared  and  Peter  fell,  his  left  foot  in  the  stirrup. 
The  horse  started  at  a  gallop,  dragging  Peter  toward 
the  east  gate. 

Sioux,  glimpsing  from  his  wild,  bloodshot  eyes  the 
prostrated  figure  of  a  man,  gave  a  great  bellow  and 
charged.  Judith  brought  her  quirt  down  on  the  bull's 
flanks,  at  the  same  time  whistling  shrilly.  But  Sioux 
was  now  out  on  his  own.  He  overtook  Buster  half 
way  down  the  corral  and  thrust  a  wicked  horn  at  the 
wildly  kicking  Peter.  Judith  leaped  from  the  saddle 
and,  running  before  Sioux,  seized  his  horns  and  threw 
herself  across  his  face.  The  bull  paused. 

At  this  moment  came  the  full  blast  of  Sister's  hunting 
cry  from  the  west  gate.  She  crossed  the  corral  like  a 
hunted  coyote  and  buried  her  fangs  in  Sioux's  shoulder 
just  as  Douglas  on  the  Moose  caught  Buster's  bridle. 
Sioux  cast  Judith  off  as  if  she  were  a  rag  and  gave  his 


154     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

full  attention  to  Sister.  Judith  picked  herself  up,  rushed 
to  the  still  plunging  Buster  and  jerked  Peter's  foot  from 
the  stirrup.  She  ran  to  the  blindfold  lying  in  the  sand  a 
short  distance  away,  then  whistling  shrilly  above  Sioux's 
bellowing  and  Sister's  yelping,  she  again  caught  one  of 
the  bull's  horns  in  her  slender  brown  hand.  Sioux 
had  rubbed  Sister  free  against  the  fence  and  was  now 
charging  the  dog  as  she  snarled  just  under  his  dewlap. 

Again  and  yet  again  he  flung  Judith  against  his 
shoulders,  but  she  did  not  fall  nor  lose  her  grip.  Sud 
denly,  so  quickly  that  the  grandstand  could  not  follow 
the  motion,  she  had  wrapped  the  blindfold  over  the  burn 
ing  eyes.  As  the  bull  stopped  confused  and  trembling 
she  hobbled  his  fore-legs  to  his  head  with  the  bridle- 
chain.  Then  she  seized  Sister's  collar  and  stood  panting, 
her  hair  tumbled  about  her  neck.  The  grandstand 
shouted  its  delight. 

Peter  had  risen  and  was  wiping  the  sand  from  his 
face. 

"Call  Sister,  Peter!"  cried  Judith.  "She'll  bite  me 
in  a  minute." 

Peter  mounted  Yankee,  whistled  to  Sister,  and  with 
a  rueful  grin  and  shake  of  his  head  for  the  audience,  he 
trotted  from  the  corral.  Judith  loosened  the  bridle-chain 
and  jumped  once  more  into  Sioux's  saddle. 

"Pull  off  his  blindfold,   Doug!"   she  cried. 

"Nothing  doing,"  returned  Douglas  succinctly.  "You 
get  off  that  bull,  Jude,  before  I  take  you  off." 

"I'm  going  to  ride  him  up  to  the  grandstand,"  said 
Judith  between  set  teeth. 

She  whistled  to  Sioux  and  he  lunged  forward.  Doug 
twisted  his  lariat.  It  coiled  round  one  of  the  bull's 
hind  legs.  Doug  brought  his  horse  to  its  haunches. 

"You  get  off  that  bull,  Judith,"  he  said.     "You've 


JUDITH  AT  THE  RODEO  155 

put  up  the  real  show  of  the  day.  Be  satisfied  before 
you  are  killed.  Sioux  is  almost  crazy." 

Frank  Day,  who  was  one  of  the  judges,  now  trotted 
up.  "Doug  is  right,  Jude." 

"There's  not  a  bit  of  danger,"  cried  Jude,  "if  you 
men  would  do  what  you're  told  to  do!  Peter  had  to 
stop  and  look  instead  of  hurrying  as  I  told  him." 

Her  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  She  dismounted  slowly 
and  after  freeing  Sioux  from  Doug's  lariat,  she  led 
the  uneasy  bull  before  the  grandstand  and  made  her 
bow.  Jimmy  Day  brought  her  a  horse  and,  mounting, 
she  trotted  out  of  the  corral  followed  by  the  now  half- 
crazed  Sioux. 

The  three  men  contestants  laughingly  refused  to  put 
on  their  exhibitions.  There  was  no  hope,  they  agreed, 
of  competing  successfully  against  Sioux  and  Judith; 
so  Judith  received  the  prize,  a  twenty-dollar  gold  piece. 

The  day  ended  with  this  award.  It  was  some  time 
before  Douglas  and  Judith  freed  themselves  from  the 
crowd.  John  and  Mary,  still  laughing  over  Peter's  dis 
comfiture,  led  the  postmaster  off  that  Mary  might  treat 
his  really  badly  skinned  face  at  the  ranch.  The  ranchers 
who  had  come  from  distant  valleys  began  to  scatter 
toward  the  Pass.  When  at  last  Judith  and  Douglas,  with 
their  string  of  horses  and  the  still  unchastened  Sioux, 
started  up  the  trail  toward  the  post-office,  they  were  held 
up  by  a  stranger  in  a  smart,  high-powered  automobile. 

"Listen,  Miss  Spencer,"  he  called,  "how  about  your 
riding  in  the  rodeo  at  Mountain  City,  this  fall?" 

Doug  and  Judith  both  gasped.  The  rodeo  at  Moun 
tain  City  was  the  ultimate  and  almost  hopeless  dream 
of  every  young  rider. 

"How  do  you  know  they'd  let  me  in?"  asked  Judith. 

"I'm  chairman  of  the  program  committee  this  year," 


156     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

answered  the  stranger.  "If  you  are  interested,  I'll 
write  you  details  when  I  get  back  home.  I've  got  to 
run  for  it  now." 

"Interested!"  exclaimed  Judith.  "I  guess  you  know 
just  what  it  means  to  be  competing  in  the  Mountain 
City  rodeo!" 

The  stranger  nodded.  "Then  you'll  hear  from  me." 
He  turned  his  panting  car  away  from  the  plunging 
horses  and  was  a  receding  dot  up  the  trail  to  the  Pass 
before  Judith  and  Douglas  found  their  tongues. 

"Well,  you  deserve  it,  Judith,"  cried  Douglas.  "You 
beat  anything  I've  seen.  It's  not  only  what  you  do 
but  the  way  you  do  it.  You've  got  to  have  a  good 
outfit.  I'll  help  you  buy  it." 

"Do  you  really  think  I'm  good  enough  for  Mountain 
City?"  exclaimed  Judith. 

"Good  enough  for  the  world!"  declared  Douglas. 

Judith  laughed  and  gave  her  attention  to  the  unhappy 
Sioux. 

Peter  was  at  supper  with  John  and  Mary  when  they 
reached  home.  His  whole  face  was  covered  with  boric 
powder.  Judith  and  Douglas  shouted  with  laughter. 
Peter  buttered  another  biscuit. 

"I  never  was  vain  of  my  looks,"  he  said  plaintively. 
"It  was  mean  of  you,  Judith,  to  ruin  what  I  had." 

"I  was  never  so  surprised  in  my  life,  honestly,  as 
when  you  fell,  Peter,"  cried  Judith. 

"O  yes ;  you  were  more  surprised  an  hour  ago,"  con 
tradicted  Douglas.  He  turned  to  his  father.  "Judith's 
been  asked  to  ride  at  the  Mountain  City  rodeo.  The 
chairman  of  their  program  committee  stopped  us  and 
asked  her." 

"Bully  for  the  girl!"  cried  John.  "I'm  not  surprised, 
myself.  Some  show,  Jude!" 


JUDITH  AT  THE  RODEO  157 

"The  Mountain  City  rodeo  is  a  tough  proposition 
for  a  young  girl  to  tackle,"  said  Peter. 

"O,  I'll  go  with  her,"  John  spoke  quickly,  "and  let 
Mary  and  Doug  run  the  place  for  a  week.  We'll 
be  back  in  time  for  the  round-up." 

"If  Judith  goes,  I  go,"  said  Mary  with  unwonted  firm 
ness. 

"What  do  you  think  I  am?"  demanded  John.  "A 
millionaire  or  a  Mormon?" 

Douglas,  a  little  white  around  the  lips,  glanced  at 
Judith,  who  was  calmly  devouring  the  lavish  piece 
of  steak  which  she  had  served  herself.  Peter  was  roll 
ing  a  cigarette. 

"If  Jude  goes,"  John  went  on,  "she  goes  with  her 
Dad.  And  believe  me,  I  am  going  to  buy  her  the  dog- 
gondest  best  outfit  I  can  glom  my  hands  on." 

Peter  caught  Douglas'  eye  and  almost  imperceptibly 
shook  his  head. 

"I'm  going  too,"   repeated  Mary. 

"You  are  not!"  John's  voice  thickened.  "You  and 
Douglas  run  the  place.  If  there's  a  rancher  in  the  State 
deserves  a  vacation  more  than  I  do,  I  wish  you'd  name 
him." 

"Give  me  a  match,  John,"  said  Peter;  "and  if  there's 
no  objection,  let's  get  out  of  this  hot  kitchen." 

John  tossed  a  match-box  to  the  postmaster  and  led  the 
way  out  to  the  corral.  Peter  and  Douglas  lined  up  on 
the  fence  beside  him.  Judith  remained  in  the  kitchen 
with  her  mother. 

"Well,  it  was  the  best  rodeo  we  ever  had,"  said  Peter. 

"Jude  was  the  whole  show."  John's  handsome  face 
showed  vividly  for  a  moment  as  he  lighted  his  pipe.  "I 
suppose  there  are  other  folks  that  ride  as  well,  but  she 
does  it  with  an  air!" 


158   JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"It's  her  love  of  it  gets  across  to  people  who  are 
watching  her,"  mused  Peter.  "And  she  rides  with  a  sort 
of  ease  that  belongs  to  Jude  and  no  one  else,  to  say 
nothing  of  her  power  over  animals.  There  is  a  lot 
to  Jude.  Too  bad  she  lives  in  Lost  Chief.  She  hasn't 
a  chance  in  the  world." 

"Just  how  do  you  mean  that?"  demanded  John. 

"Exactly  as  I  said  it.  She  hasn't  a  chance  in  the 
world." 

"Chance  in  the  world  for  what?"  John's  voice  was 
irritated.  "Talk  so  a  fool  like  me  can  understand  you, 
Peter." 

"I  guess  you  understand  me,  John.  Hello,  Judith! 
I  should  think  you'd  be  tired  enough  to  go  to  bed." 

"Who?  Me?"  Judith  perched  beside  Peter.  "I 
should  say  not!  I'd  like  to  go  to  a  dance." 

"I  sure-gawd  will  try  to  give  you  your  fill  of  dancing 
for  once  in  Mountain  City."  The  anger  had  disap 
peared  from  John's  voice. 

"Judith's  not  going  unless  her  mother  goes !"  said 
Douglas  coolly. 

Judith  sniffed.  "Her  master's  voice,  again!  You'd 
better  horn  out  of  this,  Douglas." 

"I  haven't  any  intention  of  keeping  out,"  retorted 
Douglas. 

"You'd  better,"  warned  Judith.  "If  you  think  I'm 
going  to  turn  down  a  chance  for  a  real  outfit,  without 
hearing  the  argument,  you're  mistaken." 

"I  told  you  I'd  help  you,"  insisted  Douglas. 

"You!     What  could  you  buy!"  jibed  the  girl. 

"I  was  thinking,  Jude,"  said  John,  "why  don't  you 
let  me  get  you  one  of  those  regular  riding  suits  like 
Eastern  women  wear,  pants  and  one  of  those  long 
coats." 


JUDITH  AT  THE  RODEO  159 

"Everybody  would  laugh  at  me."  Judith's  voice  was 
doubtful  but  deeply  interested.  "What  do  you  think, 
Peter?" 

"Women's  clothes  are  out  of  my  line,"  replied  Peter. 

"Aw,  don't  bribe  her,  Dad,"  protested  Douglas. 

"Bribe  her!"  snorted  John.     "For  what?" 

Peter  gave  a  sardonic  laugh  that  would  have  done 
credit  to  Charleton.  "I'm  going  home,  John,  before  I 
get  hauled  in  on  a  family  row.  Doug,  I'm  pretty  stiff. 
\Vill  you  help  me  saddle  Yankee?" 

Douglas  rose  reluctantly  and  followed  Peter  into 
the  shed  where  Yankee  was  munching  hay. 

"Keep  your  fool  mouth  shut,  Doug,"  whispered  the 
postmaster.  "You've  got  from  now  to  September  first 
to  sidetrack  this  thing." 

"If  Jude  passes  her  word  to  him,  she'll  go.  And 
you  know  as  well  as  I  do,  Peter,  that  most  anybody 
would  sell  their  soul  to  ride  in  that  rodeo  with  a  fine 
outfit." 

"Certainly,  I  know  it.  But  you  keep  out  of  it  for 
a  while." 

"Peter,  I  can't!  When  Dad  gets  to  working  on 
Judith,  I  see  red.  Listen!  Just  listen!" 

Stillness  and  starlight  and  John's  voice  rich  and  sweet 
as  Peter  never  had  heard  it. 

"You're  beautiful,  Judith!  A  beautiful  woman!  Let 
me  dress  you  as  you  ought  to  be  dressed,  give  you  the 
right  kind  of  a  horse,  and  the  whole  of  the  rodeo  will  be 
yours.  I  tell  you,  girl,  all  you've  got  to  do  is  to  ask  me 
for  what  you  want." 

"Do  other  folks  call  me  beautiful,  Dad?"  Judith's 
voice  was  breathless. 

"Why  do  you  call  me  Dad?  I'm  not  your  father, 
thank  God!" 


160     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Douglas  strode  out  of  the  shed  and  up  to  the  fence, 
followed  by  Peter  on  Yankee. 

"I  don't  want  to  quarrel  with  you,  Dad — •"  he  began, 
furiously. 

"Then  don't  start  something  you  can't  see  the  finish 
of,"  interrupted  Judith.  "Let  me  run  my  own  affairs, 
Doug." 

"That's  sound  advice."  John's  voice  was  cool.  "I 
don't  want  to  quarrel  with  you  either.  But  I'm  still 
master  of  my  own  ranch  and,  by  God,  I'll  knock  you 
down  if  you  interfere  in  this." 

Peter  leaned  over  and  put  his  hand  on  Douglas' 
shoulder. 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  Doug!  Go  off  and  think  before 
you  talk." 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence.  Douglas  stood  tense 
under  Peter's  kindly  hand,  his  face  turned  toward  the 
beautiful  shadow  of  Falkner's  Peak.  The  heavens, 
deep  purple  and  glorious  with  stars,  were  very  near. 
Suddenly  Douglas  turned  on  his  heel  and  clanked  into  the 
house,  where  he  threw  himself  down  on  his  bed. 

The  old,  futile  bitterness  was  on  him  again,  and  he 
was  quite  as  bitter  at  Judith  as  at  his  father.  Of  what 
could  the  girl  be  thinking?  What  did  girls  think  about 
men  like  John,  or  any  other  men  for  that  matter?  If 
only  there  were  some  woman  to  whom  he  might  go  for 
advice.  Grandma  Brown?  No;  he  had  talked  to  her 
once  and  she  had  failed  him.  Charleton's  wife  had  failed 
with  her  own  daughter.  There  remained  Inez  Rodman, 
who  knew  Judith  better  than  any  one  else  knew  her. 
Inez!  Doug's  mind  dwelt  long  on  this  name.  But  he 
felt  sure  that  the  woman  of  the  Yellow  Canyon  had 
forgotten  what  she  had  thought  and  felt  at  sixteen. 
And,  after  all,  he  did  not  want  again  to  see  life  through 


JUDITH  AT  RODEO  161 

Inez'  eyes.  Long  after  the  rest  of  the  family  slept,  Doug 
las  pursued  his  weary  and  futile  self-examination,  com 
ing  to  a  blind  wall  at  the  end. 

The  next  day  John  mentioned  casually  that  he  and 
Judith  had  settled  on  taking  the  trip  to  Mountain  City 
together.  Douglas  made  no  comment.  Not  that  he  had 
any  intention  of  allowing  Judith  to  make  the  trip  under 
such  circumstances,  but  he  knew  that  for  the  present  he 
could  only  bide  his  time. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   TRIP   TO    MOUNTAIN    CITY 

"Don't  think.    Just  whistle.    And  always   keep  your 
poncho  on  the  back  of  the  saddle  for  when  it  rains." 

— Jimmy  Day. 

LOST  CHIEF  was  very  proud  of  Judith's  invitation 
and  deeply  interested  in  her  preparations  for  the  con 
test.  Every  day,  now,  she  put  Sioux  and  Whoop-la 
through  their  paces.  Late  in  the  afternoon  when  she 
was  working  the  animals  in  the  corral,  it  seldom  happened 
that  one  of  Lost  Chief's  riders  was  not  perched  on  the 
buck  fence,  watching  her  and  criticizing  her  and  always 
assuring  her,  with  the  cowman's  pessimism  toward  the 
outer  world,  that  she  had  no  chance  of  winning  a  prize. 

Douglas  watched  the  preparations  with  deep  interest, 
but  said  nothing  further  against  the  trip.  He  usually 
joined  the  audience  on  the  buck  fence  and  smoked  as  he 
watched  the  really  wonderful  work  in  the  corral. 

One  brilliant  afternoon  Grandma  Brown  and  old 
Johnny  rode  up.  Jimmy  Day  already  was  perched  on 
the  fence. 

"Well,"  called  Grandma,  "I  hear  you've  finally  reached 
the  goal  of  your  ambition,  Judith." 

Judith,  leaving  Sioux  for  the  moment,  strolled  over 
toward  the  old  lady.  "Who  told  you  that,  Grand 
ma?" 

"Well,  ain't  you?" 

"I  don't  know  what  my  goal  is,  but  it  sure  isn't  this." 

162 


THE  TRIP  TO  MOUNTAIN  CITY      163 

"I'm  glad  you  haven't  lost  your  head  entirely,"  said 
the  old  lady.  "Jimmy,  I  wish  you'd  ask  Little  Marion 
to  come  over  and  help  me  out  for  a  day  or  so.  Lulu 
is  coming  home  for  a  little  visit." 

"I'll  ask  her,"  said  Jimmy.  "But  she  won't  come. 
She  isn't  so  well.  You'd  better  stop  by  and  see  her." 

Old  Johnny  suddenly  laughed.  "He  depones  like  you 
was  a  doctor  that  went  out  to  make  visits,  Sister." 

The  old  lady  grunted  as  she  gave  Jimmy  a  keen  look. 
"What's  her  mother  say  about  her?" 

"Why,  you  know  Mrs.  Falkner  isn't  back  from  Moun 
tain  City  yet.  She  left  before  Charleton  went  out  after 
wild  horses,"  replied  Jimmy. 

"How  should  I  know  ?  I've  hardly  been  off  the  ranch 
this  summer.  I  guess  I  will  stop  by." 

Old  Johnny  cleared  his  throat.  "I  was  thinking  I'd 
ask  John  if  he'd  let  me  go  along  up  with  him  and  Judith 
when  they  went  to  Mountain  City.  I  got  quite  a  gregus 
sum  of  money  saved  up  and  I  never  did  see  Frontier  Day 
yet." 

"That's  right,  Johnny!  You  ask  him,"  said  Douglas, 
with  a  remote  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

"Johnny,  you  are  a  fool,  I  swear !"  exclaimed  Grandma. 
"Let  me  catch  you  lally-gagging  off  to  Mountain  City! 
Come  on,  let's  get  started." 

"Anyhow,  Doug  is  my  friend,"  said  the  old  man, 
belligerently,  as  he  followed  his  sister. 

"If  I  go,  I'll  take  you  along,  Johnny!"  exclaimed 
Douglas.  "See  if  I  don't!" 

"You  sure  are  crazy,  Doug!"  laughed  Jimmy. 

"I  like  the  old  boy,"  insisted  Douglas.  "He  and  I 
had  better  go  up  and  see  Jude  rake  in  the  prizes." 

"Right  now  every  prize  has  been  doled  out  to  the 
regulars,"  cried  Jimmy.  "But  you  should  care,  Jude! 


164     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

You'll  have  the  grandstand  with  you,  every  minute,  if 
the  judges  aren't." 

"It  will  be  the  big  event  of  my  life  whether  I  win  or 
not,"  said  Judith.  "What's  the  matter  with  Little 
Marion,  Jimmy?  I  don't  even  remember  her  at  the 
rodeo." 

"O,  she's  busy,  you  see.  I  never  did  know  a  busier 
girl  than  Marion.  I'm  busy  too,  with  Charleton  gone 
so  long.  And  that  fourth-class  postmaster  of  ours  sent 
a  lot  of  unclaimed  magazines  and  mail  order  catalogs  up 
to  the  house.  We've  been  reading  those.  Say,  I  bet  I 
know  everything  that's  for  sale  in  the  United  States.  I'm 
the  most  price-listed  rider  in  the  Rockies." 

"I'll  be  getting  down  to  see  Marion  to-night  or  to 
morrow,"  said  Judith. 

"O,  you  needn't  bother,"  returned  Jimmy.  "It's  a 
long  trip,  and  she'll  be  all  right." 

"So  you  and  Little  Marion  have  been  baching  it!" 
mused  Douglas.  "Hang  Charleton,  he  promised  to  take 
me  out  after  wild  horses!" 

"He  generally  goes  by  himself."  Jimmy  mounted  his 
horse.  "He's  a  lone  hunter,  Charleton." 

"When  are  you  folks  going  to  be  married?"  asked 
Douglas. 

Jimmy  turned  his  roan  homeward.  "I  don't  know," 
he  answered  soberly. 

"I  wish  I  could  have  gone  with  Charleton,"  re 
marked  Douglas,  watching  Judith  as  she  rubbed 
Sioux's  head. 

"Charleton !  I  should  think  you'd  hate  a  long  trip  with 
that  old  coyote.  I  hate  him." 

"It  isn't  to  be  with  Charleton  I  want  to  go.  I  want 
to  get  me  some  wild  horses.  But  there  was  a  time  when 
I  sure  was  crazy  about  being  with  him.  I  thought  he 


THE  TRIP  TO  MOUNTAIN  CITY      165 

knew  more  about  how  a  fellow  could  get  happiness  out 
of  life  than  any  one." 

"Nobody  in  the  Valley  knows  as  much  as  Inez." 

"Do  yon  call  her  happy?" 

"No;  she's  really  sad.  That's  why  she  knows  what 
real  happiness  is." 

"Judith,  how  do  you  suppose  Inez  will  end?" 

"Over  in  the  cemetery  with  a  coyote-proof  grave  like 
the  rest  of  us.  And  I  ask  you.  Doug,  since  that's  the 
end  of  it,  why  worry?" 

"That's  the  very  reason  I  worry!  Life  is  so  short 
and  if  we  don't  find  happiness  here,  we  are  clean  out  of 
luck,  forever." 

Judith  spurred  the  nervous  Whoop-la  into  five  minutes 
of  active  bucking,  then  she  leaped  from  the  saddle  and 
came  to  perch  on  the  fence  beside  Douglas.  Her  gaze 
wandered  from  his  wistful  face  to  the  eternal  crimson 
and  orange  clouds  rolling  across  Fire  Mesa. 

"Outside  of  my  riding,"  she  said  slowly,  "I  get  most 
happiness  out  of  my  eyes." 

Douglas  followed  her  gaze.     "Inez  likes  it  too." 

Judith  nodded.  "She  got  me  to  using  my  eyes  years 
ago.  She's  a  funny  person.  Reads  almost  nothing  but 
poetry.  She's  got  one  she  always  quotes  when  she  and 
I  are  looking  at  Fire  Mesa." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Doug. 

"I  don't  know  but  one  verse: 

"A   fire  mist   and  a  planet, 
A  crystal  and  a  cell, 
A  jelly-fish  and  a  saurian, 
And  caves  where  the  cave-men  dwell, 
Then  a  sense  of  law  and  beauty 
And  a  face  turned  from  the  clod, 
Some  call  it  Evolution 
And  others  call  it  God." 


166    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"Say  it  again,  slow!"  ordered  Douglas,  his  eyes  still 
on  Fire  Mesa. 

Judith  obeyed. 

"I  didn't  know  Inez  had  got  religious,"  he  said,  when 
Judith  finished. 

"She  hasn't.  She  doesn't  believe  anything  except  that 
beauty  is  right  and  ugliness  is  wrong." 

"Then  she'd  better  clean  up  her  door-yard !"  exclaimed 
Douglas. 

"O  darn  it!"  sighed  Judith.  "I  can't  even  discuss 
poetry  with  you  without  your  heaving  a  brick." 

"I'm  not  heaving  bricks.  O  Judith,  I'm  so  devilishly 
unhappy!" 

"You  ought  to  quit  thinking  so  much  and  have  some 
thing  you  are  crazy  about  doing.  When  I  get  blue,  I 
put  Whoop-la  to  bucking." 

"I'm  crazy  about  something,  all  right.  Judith,  don't 
you  think  you're  ever  going  to  care  about  me." 

"I  don't  know,  Doug.     Who  does  know,  at  sixteen?" 

"I  did." 

"I  wouldn't  marry  a  man  that  expected  me  to  be  a 
ranch  wife  in  Lost  Chief,  if  I  loved  him  black  in  the 
face."  Judith  jumped  down  from  the  fence  and  turned 
Whoop-la  free  for  the  night. 

Douglas  sat  staring  at  her,  wondering  whether  or  not 
to  mention  the  subject  of  the  trip  to  Mountain  City. 
He  was  firmly  resolved  that  unless  Judith  gave  in  to  her 
mother  on  the  matter,  he  was  going  with  her  and  his 
father.  But  finally  he  decided  that  he  would  not  end 
their  friendly  conversation  with  a  row  and  he  clambered 
down  and  went  about  his  chores. 

And  so  the  days  passed  and  the  time  grew  close  for 
the  departure  to  Mountain  City.  One  evening,  two  days 
before  the  start,  Douglas  and  Judith  went  to  call  on 


THE  TRIP  TO  MOUNTAIN  CITY      167 

Little  Marion  and  Jimmy.  When  they  reached  the  ranch 
house,  they  found  Little  Marion  in  the  big  bed  in  the 
living-room  and  Jimmy  sitting  beside  the  unshaded  lamp, 
reading  to  her. 

''Well!"  exclaimed  Douglas.  "What's  happened  to 
you,  Marion?" 

Marion  put  back  her  great  braid  of  hair,  but  what 
answer  she  might  have  made  they  were  not  to  know,  for 
at  that  moment  Charleton  returned  from  his  wild  horse 
hunt.  Dust-covered  and  sunburned  he  strode  into  the 
room  with  a  pleasant  grin. 

"Hello,  folks!     Why,  Marion,  are  you  sick?" 

"Kind  of.     What  luck,  Dad?" 

"Fair.  Brought  in  a  good  stallion  and  some  weedy 
stuff.  How's  the  ranch,  Jimmy?" 

He  asked  this  with  his  eyes  still  on  his  daughter. 

"O.K.,  Charleton,"  replied  Jimmy. 

"You  made  a  long  trip,  Charleton,"  said  Douglas. 

"Left  the  clay  after  the  rodeo,"  tossing  his  hat  and 
gloves  on  the  floor  and  sitting  down  on  the  edge  of  the 
bed.  "I  remember  Little  Marion  was  laid  up  then  with 
a  sprained  ankle  or  something.  What  do  you  hear  from 
your  mother,  Marion?" 

"She's  well  and  so's  the  baby.  They'll  be  home  any 
time  now." 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  Marion?" 

"O,  I'm  sort  of  used  up." 

"How  do  you  mean  used  up?  I  don't  like  your  looks. 
I'm  not  a  fool,  you  know." 

Marion  burst  into  tears.     "You  know  what  it  is!" 

Charleton  made  a  sudden  spring  at  Jimmy ;  but  Doug 
las  caught  him  by  the  arm. 

"Hold  on,  Charleton!"  cried  Doug.  "If  things  have 
gone  wrong,  you're  as  much  to  blame  as  any  one." 


168    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"You  clear  out  of  here,  Doug!"  shouted  Charleton. 

"Don't  you  go,  Doug  and  Judith!''  sobbed  Marion. 
"I  need  some  one  to  stand  by  me." 

"I'm  standing  by  you,  Marion,"  said  Jimmy,  who  had 
not  stirred  from  his  chair.  "I'd  just  as  soon  you'd  beat 
me  up,  Charleton.  A  little  sooner.  But  that  isn't  going 
to  help  matters." 

Charleton  stood  glaring  at  his  prospective  son-in-law. 

"Come  off,  Charleton!"  cried  Douglas  disgustedly. 
"You  are  a  fine  one  to  raise  trouble  over  a  situation  like 
this.  Strikes  me  you've  done  everything  you  could  do 
to  bring  it  about." 

Charleton  did  not  seem  to  hear.  His  face  was  cold 
and  hard.  "Marion,  you  and  Jimmy  pack  up  and  get 
out  of  here!" 

"I  can't,  Dad!     I'm  too  sick!"  sobbed  the  girl. 

"Sick  or  no  sick,  you  get  out  of  here!" 

"Don't  you  do  it,  Marion !"  cried  Judith.  "No  man's 
got  a  right  to  act  so  at  a  time  like  this.  I'll  stick  by  you. 
Jimmy,  you  go  get  Grandma  Brown.  I'll  bet  she  can 
fix  Charleton." 

Jimmy  rushed  out  of  the  house. 

"Now,  Doug,"  Judith  went  on,  walking  over  to  take 
Marion's  hand,  "you  and  Charleton  go  on  out  while  I 
have  a  talk  with  Marion." 

"This  happens  to  be  my  house,"  said  Charleton. 
"Marion,  get  up  and  get  out!" 

"I  can't!"  repeated  the  girl. 

"You  are  a  fine  guy  to  tell  a  fellow  how  to  live  on 
wine,  women  and  horses,"  exclaimed  Douglas,  "and  then 
raise  the  devil  when  your  chickens  come  home  to  roost. 
We  all  know  Little  Marion  was  born  a  month  before  you 
were  married." 

Charleton  gave  Douglas  an  ugly  look.     "I'll  settle  with 


THE  TRIP  TO  MOUNTAIN  CITY      169 

you,  for  that,  young  fellow!"     He  stepped  toward  the 
bed.     "Are  you  going  to  get  out,  Marion?" 

"No,  she  isn't!''  snapped  Douglas.  He  made  a  sud 
den  rush  at  Charleton  and  pushed  him  into  the  kitchen, 
Judith  slammed  and  locked  the  door  behind  them. 

It  was  on  this  scene  that  John  Spencer  appeared,  clos 
ing  the  outer  door  innocently  behind  him. 

"I  wanted  to  borrow  your  buckboard  for  a  couple  of 
weeks,"  he  began.  Then  he  paused  and  looked  inquir 
ingly  from  his  son  to  his  old  friend. 

"Marion's  in  trouble,"  said  Douglas,  "and  Charleton 
is  trying  to  drive  her  out.  Jude  and  I  won't  let  him." 

"Why  should  you  butt  in?"  demanded  John. 

"Anybody  with  a  decent  heart  would,"  replied  Douglas. 

"Get  your  kids  out  of  here,  John!"  roared  Charleton. 
"Judith's  in  there  with  the  door  locked!" 
""Judith!"  called  John.     "'Come  here!" 

"I  can't,  Dad.     I  promised  Marion  to  stick  by  her." 

"You  come  out  or  I'll  break  the  door  down  and  bring 


you 


"If    you    do,    I'll    not    go    to    Mountain    City    with 


you 


John  hesitated,  though  his  face  was  purple. 

"You  couldn't  keep  her  away  from  the  rodeo  and  you 
know  it,"  sneered  Charleton.  "Fetch  her  out,  John,  un 
less  you're  afraid  of  Doug." 

"Jude,  are  you  coming?"  shouted  John. 

"No,  sir." 

John  heaved  against  the  flimsy  door  and  it  broke  on  its 
hinges.  He  rushed  into  the  inner  room.  Judith,  her 
great  eyes  blazing,  stood  with  one  hand  on  Marion's 
shoulder. 

"Aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself,  Dad!  You  put  a 
finger  on  me  or  Marion  if  you  dare!" 


170     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"Don't  touch  her,  Dad!"  Douglas'  voice  had  the  old 
note  of  warning  in  it. 

But  John,  furious  that  his  children  should  be  defying 
him  in  public,  was  quite  beyond  any  effort  at  self  control. 
He  rushed  on  toward  the  bed. 

"You  blank-blank!"  screamed  Judith.  "You  aren't 
fit  to  touch  Little  Marion's  feet!  You  or  Charleton 
either!" 

John  seized  Judith's  arm.  Quick  as  a  lynx-cat,  Doug 
las  leaped  across  the  room,  seized  his  father  from  behind 
and  was  dragging  him  toward  the  door  when  Grandma 
Brown  ran  in. 

"Now,"  she  cried  sternly,  "what  does  this  mean? 
Every  one  of  you  get  out  of  here  as  fast  as  your  feet 
will  carry  you!" 

John  stood  up,  sheepishly,  Douglas  eying  him  belli 
gerently. 

"Look  here,  Grandma,"  Charleton  shook  his  ringer 
in  the  old  lady's  face,  "I  want  you  to  understand  that — " 

"Understand!"  shrilled  Grandma.  "Understand! 
You  have  the  face  to  try  to  say  anything  to  me,  Charleton 
'Falkner  ?  Do  you  think  any  man  in  this  valley  can  have 
anything  to  tell  me  I  want  to  hear,  least  of  all  you, 
Charleton  Falkner?  I  know  your  history,  man!  And 
yours  too,  John  Spencer.  And  you  can  either  get  out 
or  listen  while  I  tell  these  children  a  few  facts  about 
you." 

Charleton  put  a  cigarette  between  his  teeth,  handed  one 
to  John,  lighted  his  own,  gave  a  light  to  John  and,  John 
at  his  heels,  walked  out  into  the  night. 

"You  and  Douglas  go  home,  Judith,"  said  Grandma 
briskly.  "Jimmy,  I  want  a  talk  with  Little  Marion. 
You  put  that  door  back  on  the  hinges,  then  disappear." 

So  Judith  and  Douglas  rode  away.     It  was  a  heavenly 


THE  TRIP  TO  MOUNTAIN  CITY      171 

night,  with  more  than  a  hint  of  frost  in  the  air,  and  the 
horses  were  as  frolicsome  as  Prince. 

"Now,  will  you  tell  me,"  asked  Judith  as  she  brought 
Buster  back  into  the  trail  for  the  third  time,  "just  why 
Charleton  acted  so?" 

"It's  just  like  I  told  you  once,"  replied  Douglas.  "A 
man  wants  his  own  women  to  be  straight  no  matter 
how  much  he  does  to  make  'em  crooked." 

"Men  are  yellow,"  said  Judith  succinctly.  "What's 
the  use  of  Charleton — "  She  paused  as  if  words  failed 
her,  and  they  rode  their  prancing  horses  in  silence  till 
John  galloped  up  and  pushed  Beauty  between  them. 

"I  hope  you  two  fools  feel  better!"  he  shouted. 
"You've  got  a  row  going  with  Charleton." 

"Lot  I  care!"  chuckled  Judith.  "I'll  sic  Grandma 
Brown  on  him  again  if  he  bothers  me." 

"I'd  rather  have  a  wolverine  after  me  than  Charleton," 
John  went  on  excitedly.  "You  both  ought  to  be  licked !" 

"Try  it,"  suggested  both  the  young  people  together. 

"I've  a  notion  not  to  take  you  up  to  Mountain  City  and 
I  wouldn't  if — " 

Judith  interrupted  him.  "You're  not  going  to  take 
me.  I'm  going  with  Doug." 

"O,  no,  you're  not!"  snarled  John. 

"And  I'm  not  going  to  quarrel  writh  you,"  Judith  went 
on.  "I'm  sick  of  men.  I  don't  like  the  way  you  acted  to 
me  to-night.  I  told  you  if  you  broke  that  door  down 
I  wouldn't  go  with  you,  and  I  always  keep  my  word. 
I'm  not  going  to  take  money  from  Douglas,  either.  I'll 
borrow  from  Inez.  And  I  don't  want  to  hear  another 
word  from  you  about  it." 

She  put  the  spurs  to  Buster  and  was  gone  into  the 
starlight.  The  men  spurred  after  her,  but  she  reached 
the  home  corral  before  they  did.  And  John  could  storm 


172     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

only  at  the  deeply  perturbed  Mary,  for  Doug  and  Judith 
went  to  bed,  pulled  the  covers  over  their  heads  and 
were  heard  no  more  that  night. 

The  next  morning,  before  breakfast,  half  of  Lost  Chief 
had  called  the  Spencers  on  the  telephone  to  tell  them  that 
Little  Marion  had  a  daughter.  The  dominant  note  in 
the  reports  was  one  of  huge  laughter.  Judith  was  serene, 
and  so  was  John.  But  the  serenity  was  not  to  last. 
When  she  went  out  to  the  corral  to  look  after  Sioux 
she  came  back  stormily. 

"Where's  Sioux  and  Whoop-la?"  she  demanded  of 
John,  who  was  mending  a  spur  strap. 

"Put   away!" 

"Have  you  killed  them?" 

"No.  I'll  produce  them  as  soon  as  you  agree  to  keep 
your  promise  to  go  to  Mountain  City  with  me." 

"I  never  promised.  I  intended  to  go  with  you,  but  I 
never  promised." 

"Remember  if  we  don't  get  started  by  to-morrow," 
roared  John,   "we  can't  get  there  in  time." 

"I  said  I  wouldn't  go  with  you  after  last  night,  and 
now,  I  wouldn't  go  with  you  if  you  were  the  last  man 
on  earth." 

She  rushed  from  the  house,  and  Douglas  followed  her. 

"I'll  help  you  hunt  for  them,  Judith,"  he  said. 

She  turned  to  him,  white  to  the  lips.  "We're  not 
going  to  hunt  for  them.  There  are  other  Mountain  City 
rodeos  coming.  If  he  thinks  I'm  going  to  make  a  joke 
of  myself  rushing  round  the  neighborhood  after  my  out 
fit,  he's  mistaken!  I'm  not  a  child.  Don't  bother  me, 
Douglas ;  I'm  going  to  Inez." 

She  put  Buster  to  a  gallop  and  was  off,  the  dust  fol 
lowing  her  in  a  golden,  whirling  spiral.  Douglas  went 
into  the  house  and  stood  before  his  father,  face  flushed, 


THE  TRIP  TO  MOUNTAIN  CITY      173 

golden  hair  rumpled,  soft  shirt  clinging  to  his  big  gaunt 
chest. 

"Dad,  that's  a  rotten  deal  to  put  over  Judith." 

John  rose  slowly  to  his  full  height  and  the  two  men 
looked  levelly  into  each  other's  eyes.  John's  expression 
was  curiously  concentrated.  He  tapped  Douglas  on  the 
arm. 

"Doug,  you  keep  out  of  this,  or  I'll  forget  you  are  my 
son.  You're  smart  and  you've  got  a  bossy  way  with 
you.  But  I'm  still  master  here.  There  never  was  a 
Spencer  that  didn't  rule  his  own  family.  Now,  under 
stand  me.  Keep  out  of  this  matter  between  me  and 
Jude.  I'm  going  to  break  that  highty-tighty  filly;  and 
by  God,  she  knows  it!" 

"You'll  never  break  her  while  I'm  alive,"  said  Douglas, 
and  he  walked  out  of  the  house. 

Mary,  coming  from  the  cow  shed  with  a  pail  of  milk, 
looked  at  him  anxiously.  "Let  it  go,  Doug,"  she  said 
in  a  low  voice.  "It's  hard  on  Judith,  but  she's  been  very 
headstrong  and  she's  point-blank  disobeyed  me  in  the 
matter.  She  deserves  what  she's  got.  Let  it  go." 

Douglas  looked  at  Mary's  care-worn  face,  so  appeal- 
ingly  like,  yet  so  unlike  Judith's.  Suddenly  his  tense 
muscles  relaxed.  "I  guess  you  are  right.  I'd  better  be 
thankful  it  is  as  it  is.  But  it  sure  is  a  rotten  trick  of 
Dad's." 

Mary  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  went  on  into  the 
house.  Douglas  went  off  to  bring  up  horses  for  the  fall 
round-up.  A  number  of  people  rode  up  during  the  morn 
ing  to  see  the  start  for  Mountain  City.  They  found  the 
ranch  deserted,  except  for  Mary,  who  pleaded  a  sick 
headache  and  refused  to  talk.  Inez  had  no  such  ret 
icence,  however,  and  at  the  post-office  that  night  Judith's 
troubles  ran  neck  and  neck  in  popular  interest  with  Little 


174     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Marion's.  Both  situations  were  of  a  nature  to  appeal 
to  Lost  Chief's  sense  of  humor.  Douglas  appeared 
during  the  session  and  learned  that  Charleton's  wife  had 
come  home. 

"I  hope  she  won't  go  crazy  too,"  he  said. 

"No  danger!"  Peter  tossed  a  letter  to  Frank  Day. 
"Charleton'll  be  in  line  by  to-morrow.  Too  bad  some 
one  can't  hobble  John  too." 

"Plumb  unnecessary,  the  whole  affair,"  grunted  the 
sheriff.  "I  suppose  the  next  thing  on  the  program  will 
be  a  big  wedding." 

"I  guess  they'll  manage  it  like  the  Browns  did,"  vol 
unteered  Young  Jeff,  squirting  his  quid  accurately  to  the 
center  of  the  hearth.  "Be  around  borrowing  my  car  in 
two  or  three  weeks,  run  up  to  Mountain  City  for  to  be 
married,  then  give  a  big  party  upstairs  here,  and  nobody 
the  worse  off  for  anything." 

Everybody  nodded  and  grinned.  Douglas  sat  on  a 
pile  of  mail  order  catalogs  smoking,  his  hat  on  the  back 
of  his  head,  his  eyes  thoughtful.  "Anybody  know  how 
Jimmy's  been  behaving  to-day?" 

Frank  Day  laughed  heartily.  "I  rode  up  there  this 
morning  after  I  heard  the  news,  friendly  like,  of  course. 
Grandma  had  Jimmy  out  in  the  yard,  washing  baby 
dresses,  while  she  stood  in  the  door  giving  him  what 
for.  Jimmy  was  dribbling  cigarette  ashes  over  the  suds 
but  he  sure  was  game.  He  grinned  and  got  red  when 
he  saw  me.  Tm  the  hen-peckedest  damn  fool  in  the 
Rockies,'  he  says." 

There  was  a  roar  of  laughter. 

"What  was  Charleton  doing?"  asked  Young  Jeff,  wip 
ing  his  eyes. 

"I  found  him  in  the  corral.     He'd  slept  in  the  alfalfa 


THE  TRIP  TO  MOUNTAIN  CITY      175 

stack  and  he  wasn't  quoting  poetry.  I  didn't  stay  with 
him  but  a  minute." 

Again  there  was  laughter. 

"Big  Marion  will  calm  him,"  said  Peter. 

"I  know  one  thing,"  exclaimed  Douglas.  "None  of 
us  will  be  saying  the  things  to  Charleton  we've  been  say 
ing  behind  his  back." 

"We  sure  won't,"  agreed  Frank.  "I  suppose  Judith's 
all  broke  up,  poor  little  devil!" 

Douglas  nodded. 

"I  saw  her  and  Inez  hobnobbing  in  the  Rodmans'  corral 
to-day,"  said  Young  Jeff.  "She'd  better  cut  Inez  out." 

Douglas  stared  at  the  familiar  faces  around  the 
room  as  if  he  never  before  had  seen  them.  Peter,  thin, 
melancholy,  his  long  sinewy  throat  exposed  by  his  but- 
tonless  blue  shirt ;  Frank  Day,  big  and  keen  of  eye,  squat 
ting  as  usual  against  the  wall;  Young  Jeff,  ruddy  and 
heavy-set,  with  his  kind  blue  eyes  and  heavy  jaw.  All 
clean  shaven,  all  in  chaps  and  spurs,  all  good  fellows,  and 
all  as  helpless  before  the  nameless  mystery  of  life  as 
Doug  himself.  The  sweat  started  to  his  forehead.  He 
rose,  pulling  on  his  gloves. 

"It's  early  yet,  Doug,"  said  Peter. 

"I'm  going  to  call  for  Judith,"  replied  Douglas.  He 
•went  out  into  the  night,  whistled  to  Prince,  mounted  the 
Moose  and  galloped  across  to  the  west  trail. 

It  was  sharp  and  frosty  but  Inez  and  Judith,  in 
mackinaws,  were  sitting  on  the  back  steps  with  a  little 
fire  of  chips  at  their  feet.  Douglas  dismounted  and  came 
into  the  fireglow.  The  light  caught  the  point  of  his  chin, 
his  clean-cut  nostrils,  and  the  heavy  overhang  of  his 
brows. 

"Ready  to  come  home,  Jude,  old  girl?"  he  asked. 


176    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"Sit  down  and  talk  to  us  a  little,  Douglas,"  suggested 
Inez. 

Douglas  hauled  up  a  broken  wagon  seat  and  sat  down. 
Prince  crawled  up  beside  him  and  went  to  sleep  with  his 
head  and  one  paw  on  Doug's  knee. 

"I  suppose  congress  was  sitting  at  the  post-office,  to 
night?"  said  Judith. 

"Yes.    Everybody's  strong  for  you  and  Little  Marion." 

"I  don't  see  why  I  should  be  bunched  with  her.  Not 
that  I  care  though!"  Judith  tossed  her  head  and  then 
dropped  her  chin  to  the  palm  of  her  hand. 

"I  swear  some  one  ought  to  give  John  Spencer  a  good 
thrashing!"  exclaimed  Inez. 

"Don't  worry!"  Judith  spoke  through  set  teeth.  "I'll 
be  even  with  him  some  day." 

"I  just  as  soon  try  to  lick  him,"  said  Doug.  "But 
what  good  would  it  do?" 

The  three  sat  in  silence  for  a  moment ;  then  Douglas 
asked  suddenly,  "Inez,  do  you  believe  that  poetry  about 
the  Fire  Mist  that  you  taught  Judith?" 

"No;  but  I  think  it's  a  beautiful  poem,  just  the  same  " 

"Say  it  all  for  me,  will  you,  Inez?" 

Inez,  in  her  soft  contralto,  repeated  the  lines. 

"And  you  don't  believe  it?"  Douglas'  voice  was 
wistful.  "Don't  you  wish  you  did?" 

"I   don't  know  as  I  do,"  replied  Inez. 

"But  don't  you  see,"  urged  Douglas,  "that  without 
believing  it,  there's  no  meaning  to  anything?" 

"Well,  what  of  it?"  asked  Inez. 

"I'm  the  kind  of  a  guy  that  has  to  see  a  purpose  to 
things,  I  guess,"  replied  Douglas,  heavily.  "Peter  is 
dead  right.  Lost  Chief  is  a  rotten  hole." 

"It's  a  rotten  place  for  women  and  a  paradise  for 
men,"  stated  Judith  flatly. 


THE  TRIP  TO  MOUNTAIN  CITY      177 

"Never  was  any  place  in  the  world  more  beautiful," 
mused  Inez.  "If  you'd  just  see  the  beauty  all  around 
you,  Doug,  you'd  do  without  the  religion." 

"I  do  see  the  beauty,"  replied  Douglas.  "I've  been 
seeing  it  ever  since  you  told  me  to  look  for  it.  But  it 
just  makes  me  blue." 

"You're  no  cowman,  Douglas,"  Inez  spoke  thought 
fully.  "You  ought  to  go  East  to  college  and  get  into 
politics  or  something!" 

Douglas  shook  his  head.  "I'm  like  Charleton.  I 
couldn't  leave  these  hills  and  plains  for  anything  the  East 
has  to  offer  me."  He  rose  slowly,  and  Inez  stared  up 
at  him.  Tall,  slender,  straight,  his  young  face  a  little 
strained,  a  little  wistful,  he  was  to  the  older  woman 
something  finer  than  Lost  Chief  knew. 

"Judith,"  she  said  suddenly,  "you're  an  awful  fool!" 

Judith  grunted,  immersed  in  her  own  troubles. 

"Come,  old  lady,"  said  Douglas.     "We  must  get  home. 

"I'm  going  to  stay  all  night  with  Inez." 

"No,  you're  not,  Jude,"  said  Douglas  quietly,  and  he 
stood  waiting. 

"Let  her  stay,  Doug.     She'll  be  all  right,"  urged  Inez. 

"No,"  replied  the  young  rider,  with  the  familiar 
straightening  of  his  chin.  "Come,  Judith!" 

The  tall  girl  rose,  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  followed 
slowly  to  the  corral  after  Douglas.  Inez  did  not  move 
and  shortly  they  trotted  away,  leaving  her  alone  in  the 
firelight. 

The  next  day,  sullenly  enough,  John  ordered  Doug 
to  make  the  horses  ready  for  the  round-up.  Frost  had 
set  in  and  he  suddenly  announced  himself  as  fearful  lest 
snows  catch  the  herds  high  on  the  mountains.  So  Doug 
las  and  Judith  spent  the  day  bringing  in  several  stout 
horses  from  the  range.  On  the  morning  following,  be- 


178    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

fore  breakfast  was  finished,  Scott  Parsons  hallooed  from 
the  corral.  The  family  went  to  the  door. 

Scott  was  leading  Sioux  and  Whoop-la. 

"Found  these  in  the  old  Government  corral  up  on  Lost 
Chief  Mountain,"  he  said  laconically. 

"I  suppose  you're  going  to  get  something  worth  while 
from  Dad  for  this!"  cried  Judith  passionately. 

Scott  looked  at  the  girl  curiously.  "You  sure  are 
crazy,  Jude!  Do  you  suppose  I'd  help  John  Spencer  do 
you  like  that?  John's  a  blank-blank  and  he  knows  it." 

Douglas  moved  to  stand  by  Ginger's  head. 

"No  man  says  that  to  me  without  a  grin."  John, 
drew  his  gun. 

"Jude!"  said  Doug  sharply.  He  reached  up  and  seized 
Scott's  hand  and  with  a  sudden  twist  relieved  him  of  his 
six-shooter. 

Judith  struck  up  her  father's  arm  and  a  shot  scattered 
dust  from  the  sod  roof  of  the  cabin.  John  smacked 
Judith  on  the  cheek.  She  threw  herself  on  him  like  a 
fighting  she-bear.  John  dropped  his  gun  to  seize  her 
wrists  and  Mary  promptly  picked  the  weapon  up  and  gave 
it  to  Douglas. 

"Now,"  said  Doug,  when  Judith  stood  panting  like 
a  young  Diana,  her  eyes  black  with  anger  and  excitement, 
"if  you  two  men  want  to  fight,  take  your  fists  and  go 
to  it!" 

John  suddenly  grinned,  his  eyes  on  Judith.  "I  don't 
see  anybody  spoiling  for  a  fist  fight  but  Judith.  You 
little  lynx-cat!  You  get  handsomer  every  day!" 

"I'd  hate  to  let  a  woman  make  putty  of  me  like  that," 
sneered  Scott.  "Let  me  have  my  shooting-iron,  Doug." 

Douglas  had  broken  the  revolver  and  unloaded  it. 
He  gave  it  back,  receiving  the  lead  ropes  of  the  two 
animals  in  return,  and  Scott  trotted  away. 


179 

"I'm  much  obliged  to  you,  Scott!"  shrieked  Judith. 
"I'll  ride  up  and  tell  you-  all  about  it,  some  day." 

Scott  waved  his  hand  but  did  not  look  back.  John, 
still  holding  Judith's  wrists,  suddenly  drew  her  to  him 
and  kissed  her  full  oh  the  lips.  Then,  with  a  laugh,  he 
freed  her  and  returned  to  his  breakfast.  Douglas  swore 
under  his  breath  and  turned  the  uneasy  Sioux  and 
Whoop-la  into  the  corral.  The  day  went  forward  as  if 
nothing  had  happened. 

That  night,  Charleton  and  John  appeared  at  the  post- 
office  gathering  for  the  first  time  since  the  birth  of  Little 
Marion's  baby.  Only  Peter  had  the  intrepidity  to  com 
ment  on  recent  events. 

"I  didn't  want  Judith  to  go  alone  with  you  to  Moun 
tain  City,  John,1'  he  said.  "But,  all  the  same,  that  was 
a  rotten  deal  you  gave  her." 

"She's  a  disobedient  little  hussy,"  John's  voice  was 
truculent,  "and  it  was  the  only  way  I  could  get  at  her." 

"You  mean  the  fight  she  put  up  to  help  Little  Marion?1' 
demanded  Peter. 

"O,  dry  up,  Peter!"  exclaimed  Charleton.  "Me,  I'm 
sick  of  the  sound  of  a  woman's  name.  They're  all  alike, 
ungrateful  minxes." 

"Ungrateful  is  the  word,"  agreed  Peter  grimly.  "But 
I'd  like  to  know  just  what  Marion  was  under  obligation, 
to  you  for?" 

Charleton  did  not  reply. 

"When  are  they  going  to  be  married?"  asked  Peter, 
after  a  moment. 

"First  of  the  month.  We'll  give  'em  a  party  up  here 
in  the  hall  that  Lost  Chief  will  never  forget.  John,  do 
you  ride  to-morrow?" 

"Yes,  Charleton.     Everybody's  reported  but  you." 

"I'll  be  there.     Start  from  your  place,  as  usual?" 


i8o     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

John  nodded,  and  the  rest  of  the  evening  was  given 
over  to  a  discussion  of  details  of  the  round-up. 

The  fall  round-up  was  always  a  long  and  arduous 
affair.  The  cattle  were  scattered  all  through  the  ranges 
covered  by  the  Forest  Reserve.  Slowly  and  with  infi 
nite  labor  and  skill,  they  were  sought  out  and  herded 
down  into  Hidden  Gorge  Canyon,  below  Fire  Mesa. 
Thence,  they  were  driven  to  the  plains  east  of  the  post- 
office,  where  the  riders  cut  out  their  own  cattle. 

The  weather  held  for  two  weeks,  star-brilliant  at  night, 
with  the  low  of  mother-cows  separated  from  their 
calves  from  mountain  to  mountain,  with  the  crisp  wind 
bringing  down  the  frosted  leaves  of  the  aspens,  and  at 
noon  the  hot  dust  swirling  up  from  the  horses'  hoofs 
into  the  sweating  faces  of  the  riders. 

Perhaps  thirty  men  rode  in  the  Lost  Chief  crowd.  The 
work  was  more  or  less  solitary  by  day,  but  at  night  over 
the  camp-fires,  there  was  society  enough.  Douglas  en 
joyed  it  all  to  the  very  tips  of  his  being.  He  was  coming 
now  into  the  great  strength  that  belonged  to  his  height 
and  could  do  his  full  share  of  the  heavy  work.  He  had 
thought  that,  rolled  in  his  blankets,  under  the  stars,  he 
would  find  inspiration  that  would  help  him  solve  the 
problem  of  life.  But  long  before  the  camp-fire  was 
low,  he  would  drop  into  slumber  that  ended  only  when 
his  father  shook  him  at  dawn. 

When  the  round-up  reached  the  plains,  the  women  set 
up  a  camp  kitchen  and  served  hot  meals.  The  weather 
this  year  held  clear  to  the  last  day,  when  a  blizzard  swept 
down  from  Dead  Line  Peak  and  the  last  of  the  cutting 
out  was  finished  in  blinding  snow.  Douglas  and  John, 
after  putting  the  last  of  their  yearlings  into  the  cut  over 
fields,  staggered  into  the  warm  ranch  kitchen  half -peri  shed 
with  the  cold. 


CHAPTER  X 

WILD  HORSES 

"If  I  could  believe  in  God  and  a  heaven  I'd  ask  nothing 
more  of  life  except  a  good  saddle-horse." 

— Charleton's  Wife. 

AND  so  another  long  winter  was  upon  Lost  Chief.  It 
was  much  like  other  winters  for  Douglas  except  for 
the  fact  that  he  began  systematically  to  trap  for  pelts. 
It  was  a  heavy  winter  and  game  was  plentiful,  with  pelts 
of  exceptionally  fine  quality  for  which  there  was  a  good 
market  in  St.  Louis.  Douglas  worked  hard  and  began 
the  accumulation  of  a  sum  of  money  which  he  planned 
to  use  eventually  to  start  his  own  ranch  on  the  old  Doug 
las  section,  which  was  to  be  his  when  he  came  of  age. 

But  although  to  the  young  rider  the  money  earned 
seemed  the  main  aspect  of  the  winter's  work,  the  impor 
tant  result  really  lay  in  the  deepening  it  gave  to  his 
appreciation  of  the  beauty  and  mystery  of  this  mountain 
valley. 

Lost  Chief  was  lovely  in  the  summer  with  its  crystal 
glory  of  color  on  hill  and  plain.  But  Lost  Chief  in 
winter  was  awe-inspiring  in  its  naked  splendor.  Dead 
Line  Peak  and  Falkner's  Peak,  barren  save  for  the  great 
blue  snows  and  for  the  black  shadows  that  crept  up  and 
down  their  tremendous  flanks,  were  separated  from  each 
other  by  a  long,  narrow,  slowly  rising  valley.  Down  this 
valley  rushed  a  tiny  brook  whose  murmur  the  bitterest 
weather  could  not  quite  still.  Along  this  brook  grew 

181 


182     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

quivering  aspens,  and  beside  it  coyotes  kept  open  a  little 
trail.  Along  this  trail,  Doug  set  his  traps,  as  well  as  up 
on  the  wall  of  the  mountains  where  lynx-cats  and  wolver 
ine  were  hid. 

Each  day  at  noon,  mounted  on  the  Moose,  with  Prince 
at  heel,  he  rode  the  circuit  of  the  traps,  seldom  reaching 
home  until  long  after  supper  was  cleared  away.  There 
were  days  when,  on  leaving  the  ranch  for  the  long,  bitter- 
cold  ride,  it  seemed  to  Douglas  that  he  never  could  come 
back  again,  that  the  pain  of  living  in  the  same  house  with 
Judith  in  her  girlish  indifference  was  to  be  endured  no 
longer.  The  primitive  intimacy  in  which  the  family 
dwelt  made  every  hour  at  home  a  sort  of  torture  to  him, 
a  torture  that  he  did  not  wish  to  forego  yet  that  he 
scarcely  could  endure.  One  cannot  say  how  much  of 
Douglas'  self-control  was  due  to  innate  refinement,  how 
much  to  expediency,  how  much  to  the  male  power  of 
inhibition  when  fighting  to  win  the  love  of  a  woman. 

But,  whatever  the  cause,  Douglas  was  developing  a 
power  of  self-control  possessed  by  no  other  man  in  the 
valley.  It  made  him,  even  at  eighteen,  a  little  grim,  a 
little  lonely,  a  little  abstracted.  And  he  rode  his  traps 
like  a  man  in  a  dream.  He  thought  much,  but  not 
constantly,  of  Judith;  though  she  perfumed  all  his 
thoughts.  For  the  most  part  he  pondered  on  the  blank 
mystery  of  life  and  on  the  enigma  of  love,  which  to  him 
seemed  far  more  productive  of  pain  than  of  joy.  Little 
by  little,  he  found  himself  eager  to  get  into  the  hills. 
Quite  consciously  he  left  the  ranch  each  day  with  the 
thought  that  when  he  reached  the  crest  of  old  Falkner's 
lower  shoulder,  where  his  lynx  trap  was  set,  and  beheld 
the  unspeakable  strength  and  purity  of  the  far-flung 
ranges,  to  whose  vastness  the  Lost  Chief  peaks  were  but 
foothills,  he  would  find  a  wordless  peace. 


WILD  HORSES  183 

And  thus  the  winter  slipped  away  and  blue-birds  dipped 
again  in  the  spring  beyond  the  corral.  And  again  alfalfa 
perfumed  the  alkaline  dust  that  followed  the  birds  into 
the  Reserve;  and  then  again,  frost  laid  waste  the  strug 
gling  gardens  of  high  altitudes;  and  for  another  winter 
Doug  followed  traps,  varying  the  monotony  by  getting  out 
pine-logs  for  his  ranch  house. 

The  winter  that  Judith  was  twenty  and  Douglas  twenty- 
two  was  one  of  the  most  severe  ever  known  in  Lost  Chief 
country.  It  was  preceded  by  a  summer  of  drought  and 
the  alfalfa  and  wild  hay  fields  failed.  Feed  could  not  be 
bought.  Steers  and  horses  died  by  the  score.  Doug 
did  little  trapping.  He  and  his  father  spent  the  bitter 
storm-swept  days  fighting  to  save  their  stock.  By  March 
they  were  cutting  young  aspens  and  hauling  them  to  the 
famished  herds  to  nibble.  Coyotes  moved  brazenly  by 
day  across  the  home  fields,  stealing  refuse  from  the  very 
door-yards.  Eagles  perched  on  fence-posts  near  the 
chicken  runs.  Jack-rabbits  in  herds  of  many  score  milled 
about  the  wind-swept  barrens,  gnawing  the  grass  already 
cattle-cropped  to  the  roots.  The  cold  and  snow  persisted 
till  mid-April,  and  even  then  Lost  Chief  was  only  begin 
ning  to  thaw  on  its  lower  northern  edge. 

It  was  a  winter  of  tremendous  nerve  strain.  There 
had  been  little  opportunity  for  the  neighbors  to  get  to 
gether,  and  the  battle  with  the  cold  never  ceased.  John 
Spencer,  always  at  his  best  when  great  physical  demands 
were  being  made  upon  him,  came  through  the  winter 
better  than  Douglas,  whose  profound  restlessness  was 
beginning  to  tell  even  on  his  youthful  strength.  It  was 
almost  as  much  of  a  relief  to  Doug's  family  as  to  Doug 
to  have  Charleton  Falkner  insist,  late  in  April,  that  Doug 
go  on  a  wild  horse  hunt  with  him. 

It  was  like  the  opening  of  a  prison  door  to  the  young 


184    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

rider.  He  had  dwelt  within  himself  too  much,  had  seen 
too  much  of  Judith,  had  been  too  deeply  perplexed  by  his 
own  relation  to  life.  He  resolved  that  during  the  week 
they  were  to  be  out  on  the  hunt,  he  would  not  once  permit 
himself  a  serious  thought. 

They  left  Charleton's  ranch  early  one  morning,  driv 
ing  a  sheep  wagon  which  trailed  four  saddle  horses.  On 
the  tail-board  of  the  wagon  were  a  bale  of  alfalfa  and 
several  bags  of  oats,  for  which  Charleton  had  scraped 
Lost  Chief  to  the  bottom  of  its  bins. 

The  snow  was  running  off  the  trail  in  roaring  streams. 
There  was  brilliant  sun.  Magpies  dipped  across  the  blue. 
Charleton  drove  while  Douglas  lay  across  the  bunk,  his 
spurred  boots  resting  on  an  embroidered  sofa  cushion 
which  he  had  purloined  from  Mary  for  lack  of  a  pillow. 
He  lay  thus  all  day,  except  at  meal  time,  neither  man 
caring  to  talk.  All  day  long,  they  pushed  north,  over 
the  hills,  each  hill  and  valley  lower  than  the  last.  When 
they  made  their  night  camp,  the  snows  \vere  gone.  The 
next  day,  too,  they  pursued  ever-dropping  trails,  that 
disappeared  toward  noon,  leaving  Charleton  to  find  his 
way  through  barren  hills  that  were  criss-crossed  only  by 
antelope  and  coyote  tracks.  At  mid-afternoon,  from  the 
crest  of  one  of  these  hills  they  beheld  a  winding,  black 
river  with  a  flush  of  green  along  its  borders.  They 
covered  the  miles  to  this  at  a  trot  and  made  their  camp 
beside  the  rushing  waters.  The  eager  horses  almost 
rended  harness  and  halter  in  their  desire  to  taste  the 
budding  grass  around  the  sage-brush  roots. 

They  carried  food  and  fodder  only  for  a  week,  so  they 
dared  allow  but  two  days  for  the  actual  hunting.  At 
dawn  they  had  finished  breakfast  and  were  riding  up 
into  the  rolling  hills  to  the  west.  Brown  hills  against 
a  pale  blue  morning  sky,  then  a  sudden  flood  of  crimson 


WILD  HORSES  185 

against  a  high  horizon  line.  Against  this  crimson,  a  row 
of  grazing  horses! 

"We'll  separate  now,"  said  Charleton.  "Do  like  we 
always  do.  Pick  out  one  horse  and  ride  him  down. 
They  will  be  awful  soft  after  such  a  winter.  Don't  get 
side-tracked  from  one  horse  to  another.  They'd  kill  the 
Moose  off  at  that.  He's  getting  pretty  old  for  this  kind 
of  thing.  I'll  see  you  at  camp  to-night." 

Douglas  dropped  into  a  valley  which  twisted  under  the 
hill  where  the  wild  horses  were  grazing.  Here  he 
dismounted  and,  leading  his  horse,  began  to  snake  his 
way  upward  through  the  sage-brush  which  covered  the 
hillside.  When  he  was  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the 
herd,  he  paused.  There  were  fifteen  horses,  of  every 
kind  and  color.  Douglas  selected  a  jet  black  mare  whh 
a  wonderful  tail  and  mane.  Then  he  turned  to  mount. 
Charleton,  at  this  moment,  appeared  on  the  far  side  of 
the  hill.  The  Moose  nickered,  and  the  herd  tossed  heads 
and  broke. 

The  mare  dropped  over  the  east  side  of  the  hill  as  if 
she  had  been  shot.  Douglas  turned  the  Moose  after  her 
and  they  hurled  down  the  steep  slope  with  thundering 
hoofs.  For  some  moments,  the  Moose  sought  to  turn 
hither  and  yon  as  different  horses  flashed  across  his 
vision.  But  Doug  held  him  to  the  black  mare,  and  once 
the  Moose  realized  that  she  alone  was  their  quarry  Doug 
las  was  able  to  give  almost  all  his  attention  to  watching 
her  strategy. 

She  did  not  show  fight  nor  did  she  double  on  her 
tracks.  Fleet  as  a  bird,  she  flew  over  the  hills,  dropping 
into  canyons,  leaping  draws,  jumping  rock  heaps,  until 
little  by  little  she  drew  ahead  of  the  Moose  until  she 
became  no  larger  than  a  black  coyote  against  the  yellow 
hills.  But  Douglas  would  not  allow  the  Moose  to  break 


i86    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

from  his  swift  trot.  As  long  as  he  could  keep  the  mare 
in  sight  he  was  content. 

The  sun  was  sailing  high  and  the  Moose  was  winded 
when  the  mare,  cantering  painfully  along  the  ridge  of 
a  hill,  stumbled  and  fell.  She  was  up  again  at  once  but 
her  gait  slowed,  perceptibly.  In  less  than  a  half -hour 
Doug  was  within  roping  distance  of  her.  As  the  lariat 
sung  above  her  head,  she  half  turned,  gave  Doug  a  look 
of  anguished  surprise,  leaped  sideways  and  disappeared 
up  a  crevice  in  a  canyon  wall.  Douglas  spurred  the 
Moose  in  after  her.  They  were  in  a  little  valley,  thick 
grown  with  dwarf  willow.  The  mare  was  not  to  be 
seen. 

Now  began  a  search  that  persisted  till  the  Moose's 
sturdy  legs  were  trembling.  Douglas  threaded  the  valley 
again  and  again.  There  was  no  exit  save  through  the 
one  crevice  by  which  they  had  entered.  He  had  all  but 
concluded  that  the  mare  had  been  swallowed  up  by  the 
earth  when  he  found  her  trail,  turning  up  the  south  wall. 
He  spurred  the  Moose  upward,  and  there  in  a  clump  of 
cedars  he  found  her  hiding.  With  a  laugh  he  again 
twirled  his  rope  and  it  slipped  over  the  tossing  black 
head.  As  the  Moose  turned  and  the  rope  tightened,  the 
mare  gave  a  scream  that  was  like  that  of  a  human  being 
in  dire  agony.  For  a  moment  she  dragged  back,  then, 
head  drooping,  trembling  in  every  muscle,  she  followed 
in. 

Dusk  was  falling  when  Douglas  made  the  camp. 
Charleton  already  had  started  a  fire  in  the  little  cook- 
stove.  He  came  out  and  examined  the  mare  as  well  as 
the  failing  light  and  her  extreme  timidity  permitted. 

"She's  a  beauty,  Doug.  Don't  believe  she's  over  four 
years  old.  Any  brand  on  her?" 

"No.     From  the  looks  of  her  hoofs,  I'd  say  she'd  been 


WILD  HORSES  187 

born  with  the  herd.  What  luck  did  you  have,  Charle- 
ton?" 

"None  at  all.  I  took  after  a  young  stallion  and  he 
wore  my  horse  out.  I  know  where  he's  bedding  down 
to-night  and  I'll  get  him  to-morrow  or  shoot  him." 

"You'll  get  him,"  said  Douglas. 

Charleton  chuckled.  "Nice  thing  if  the  mare  is  all 
we  bring  in.  Make  some  coffee,  Doug.  The  biscuits 
are  baking.  I  could  eat  one  of  Sister's  coyotes  to-night." 
Charleton  jammed  another  sage-brush  knot  into  the  little 
stove. 

They  were  off  at  dawn.  Douglas  rode  this  day  a 
young  bay  horse  he  had  recently  broken  and  named  Pard. 
But  though  Pard  was  strong  and  willing,  he  lacked  the 
skill  of  the  Moose  in  running  this  rough  country, 
and  by  noon  Douglas  was  obliged  to  give  up  the  pursuit 
of  a  dapple  gray  he  had  selected.  He  was  far  out  on 
the  plains  when  he  made  the  decision  to  turn  campward. 
To  the  distant  south,  in  the  Lost  Chief  ranges,  a  snow 
storm  was  raging;  but  Pard  and  Douglas  were  dripping 
with  sweat,  under  a  sweltering  sun.  Strange,  thimble- 
shaped  green  hills,  dotted  the  plains  about  them.  Douglas 
drew  up  at  the  base  of  one  of  these  to  rest  his  horse. 
Scarcely  had  he  done  so  when  a  tiny  herd  of  antelope 
trotted  casually  round  the  neighboring  hillock.  They 
halted,  sniffed,  and  turned,  but  not  before  Douglas  had 
drawn  his  saddle  gun  and  fired  at  the  leader.  The  crea 
ture  went  lame  at  once  but  disappeared  with  his  fellows 
among  the  green  hills. 

Douglas  followed  and  shortly  found  a  spot  of  blood 
that  was  repeated  at  irregular  intervals  for  a  mile  or 
so.  Pard  was  grunting  now,  but  Douglas  rowelled  him 
and  pushed  on  until  he  saw  the  antelope  kneeling  in  the 
lee  of  an  outcropping  of  rock.  It  struggled  to  its  feet 


i88     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

and   fell  again,  its  beautiful  head  dropping  against  its 
crimsoned  breast. 

"Wonder  if  I  can  get  you  home  alive  to  Judith?" 
said  Douglas. 

After  a  moment  of  thought,  he  loosened  his  lariat, 
swung  and  roped  the  antelope  around  the  horns,  dragging 
it  from  its  futile  sanctuary.  Then  he  dismounted 
and  removed  the  lariat.  The  antelope  bleated  but  lay 
trembling,  making  no  attempt  to  rise.  Douglas  examine^ 
the  shattered  shoulder. 

"You  poor  devil!"  he  said.  "Even  if  you  weren't  hurt 
so  badly,  you'd  die  of  fright  before  I  could  get  you  home. 
Well,  of  course  I'm  sorry  venison  is  out  of  season,  but 
a  man  must  eat !"  He  put  his  gun  to  the  delicate  head, 
and  an  hour  later  Pard  was  snorting  under  a  gunny-sack 
of  venison.  Douglas  lighted  a  cigarette  and,  whistling 
gaily,  started  once  more  for  camp. 

But  this,  if  not  a  day  of  what  Lost  Chief  would  call 
real  adventure,  was  at  least  to  be  a  day  of  episode.  About 
mid-afternoon  Doug  heard  the  tinkle  of  a  sheep-bell.  He 
was  not  surprised,  for  he  knew  that  he  was  well  within 
sheep  country.  He  followed  the  tinkle  and  came  shortly 
to  a  wide  draw  where  moved  a  mighty  gray  mass  of 
sheep.  The  herder,  on  a  bay  horse,  responded  to  Doug's 
halloo  with  a  wave  of  his  hand.  Douglas  made  his  way 
round  the  edge  of  the  draw  and  waited  for  the  herder, 
who  rode  slowly  up  to  meet  him.  Then  he  stared  at  the 
stranger's  gray-bearded  face  with  the  utmost  surprise. 

"Mr.  Fowler!"  he  cried.  "What  are  you  doing  out 
here?" 

The  older  man,  in  shabby  blue  overalls  and  jumper,  a 
black  slouch  hat  pulled  over  h-is  eyes,  smiled  grimly. 

"You  have  the  advantage  of  me,  young  man.  I  don't 
remember  your  face." 


WILD  HORSES  189 

"I'm  glad  you  don't!"  replied  Douglas.  "But  I've 
always  wanted  to  te-11  you  I  sure-gawd  was  ashamed  of 
myself.  I  was  the  kid  that  made  you  trouble  at  Lost 
Chief  seven  or  eight  years  ago." 

Fowler's  black  brows  met  as  he  studied  the  young 
rider's  frank  face. 

"So  you  are!"  he  said  slowly.  "So  you  are!  Well, 
I'll  never  have  that  kind  of  trouble  again.  Have  you 
eaten?  I'm  late  about  dinner.  Fact  is,  I  get  careless 
about  my  meals,  living  alone!" 

"No,  I've  been  out  after  wild  horses  and  don't  plan 
to  eat  till  I  get  back  to  camp  ten  miles  yonder  on  the 
creek." 

^'Better  break  bread  wTith  me,"  suggested  the  preacher. 

"That's  sure  white  of  you.  I  don't  mind  if  I  do." 
Douglas  returned  Mr.  Fowler's  grim  look  with  one  of 
wistful  curiosity. 

The  preacher  silently  led  the  way  to  the  sheep-herder's 
wagon  -which  perched  on  the  peak  of  a  hill  above  the 
draw.  "I  don't  havt  much  to  offer  you  but  beans,"  he 
said  as  they  dismounted. 

Douglas  looked  from  the  blood-stained  gunny-sack  to 
the  clergyman-'s  deep-set  eyes,  hesitated,  then  said,  "Beans 
are  good  and  the  sheep-man's  staple."  He  followed  into 
the  wagon  and  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bunk  while  Fowler 
prepared  the  frugal  meal. 

"Do  you  mind  telling  me,"  asked  Doug,  "why  you  are 
herding  sheep  instead  of  folks?" 

"I  couldn't  earn  a  decent  living  herding  folks.  My 
wife  died.  I  took  anything  that  offered  that  would  take 
me  away  from  men  and  their  accursed  ways.  There  was 
something  about  sheep-herding  that  made  me  think'  of 
Jesus  Christ  and  the  country  round  about  Bethlehem.  I 
have  found  a  kind  of  peace  here." 

t 


190     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Douglas  cleared  his  throat.  "How  long  have  you  been 
at  it?" 

"A  couple  o.f  years." 

"How  was  it  you  couldn't  earn  a  living,  preaching?" 

"It's  an  age  of  unfaith,"  replied  the  preacher. 

"I  don't  believe  it's  an  age  of  unfaith."  Douglas 
puffed  slowly  on  a  cigarette.  "That  is,  not  like  you 
mean.  That  Sunday,  if  you'd  given  us  something  we 
could  have  set  our  teeth  in,  we'd  have  listened  to  you. 
I  remember  distinctly,  I  sat  down  in  the  back  of  the  room, 
saying  to  myself,  'Now  if  this  old-timer  has  something 
interesting  to  say,  I  won't  let  the  kids  in.'  But  you — 
excuse  me,  Mr.  Fowler — you  just  got  up  and  bleated 
like  a  Montana  sheep-man." 

The  preacher  set  the  coffee-pot  on  the  stove,  straight 
ened  himself,  and  shouted,  "I  spoke  the  word  of  God!'' 

"I  don't  know  whether  there's  a  God  or  not.  Probably 
there  isn't  any.  But  if  there  is,  I'll  bet  He  never  talked 
foolish  threats  that  a  fellow  has  hard  work  to  under 
stand."  Mr.  Fowler  gasped.  "Now  wait  a  moment," 
protested  Douglas.  "Don't  get  mad  and  throw  me  out 
like  I  did  you!  I'm  a  man  now,  and  I  tell  you,  Mr. 
Fowler,  I'm  troubled  about  many  things  and  I  want  you 
to  let  me  talk  to  you." 

The  beautiful,  sympathetic  light  of  the  shepherd  of 
souls  shone  in  the  clergyman's  eyes.  "Talk  on,  my  boy! 
I  too  am  troubled  about  many  things.  But  not  about 
God.  I  know  Him." 

"How  do  you  know  Him?" 

"By  His  works,  the  sun,  the  stars,  the  universe, 
through  His  holy  word,  the  Bible." 

Douglas  waved  his  hands  irritably.  "Words!  Just 
words !  How  can  they  mean  anything  to  a  hard-headed 
man  like  me?  Everything1  came  out  of  a  fire  mist. 


WILD  HORSES  191 

How  do  you  know  it  was  a  mind  made  that  fire  mist? 
Why  couldn't  it  have  been  a — a —  Christ,  what  couid 
it  have  been?"  Douglas  paused  with  lips  agape  with 
horror  as  he  gazed  on  the  evil  of  the  universe. 

Fowler  motioned  the  young  rider  to  a  seat  at  the 
table.  "God  bless  our  food  and  give  us  understanding," 
he  said.  Then  he  served  Doug  and  sat  staring  thought 
fully  at  his  own  coffee-cup.  "Were  you  ever  in  love?" 
he  finally  asked  Douglas. 

"Yes." 

"Did  she  love  you?" 

"Not  that  I  can  find  out!" 

"Does  she  know  that  you  love  her?"  pursued  the 
minister. 

"Yes,  I  told  her  so." 

"But,"  said  Mr.  Fowler,  "love  isn't  something  you 
can  put  your  teeth  in.  Howr  can  she  believe  you?" 

"Because,  I'm  something  she  can  put  her  teeth  in! 
Believe  me,  Mr.  Fowler,  if  God  once  convinced  me  He 
was  real,  I'd  believe  anything  He  told  me.  Just  give 
me  facts.  That's  all  I  want." 

"The  universe  is  a  fact." 

"Yes,  but  the  universe  being  a  fact  doesn't  prove 
there's  any  hereafter.  Hang  it,  Mr.  Fowler,  can't  you 
preachers  get  it  through  your  heads  that  what  people 
want  you  to  prove  to  them  is  that  there  is  a  hereafter? 
That's  all  there  is  to  your  job.  Prove  that  and  you  can 
lead  us  round  by  the  nose.  But  if  you  can't  show 
us  that  the  soul  doesn't  die,  there  is  no  meaning  in  any 
thing,  and  we  might  as  well  be  like  we  are  in  Lost 
Chief." 

"What's  the  matter  with  Lost  Chief?"  Mr.  Fowler's 
smile  was  grim. 

"Peter  Knight  says  it's  that  we  have  no  ethics.     Inez 


192     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Rodman  says  it's  that  we  don't  know  beauty  when  we 
see  it." 

"Inez  Rodman?  O,  that  woman  of  the  Yellow 
Canyon!  If  there  were  a  minister  in  Lost  Chief,  she 
wouldn't  be  in  the  Valley." 

"O,  I  don't  know!  .Religion  doesn't  seem  to  affect 
her  kind,  anywhere.  But  Peter  says  we'd  ought  to  have 
built  a  church  along  with  the  schoolhouse.  I  don't  see 
myself  how  the  kind  of  Bible  stuff  you  teach  could  help 
a  hard  living,  hard  thinking  kind  of  people  like  us." 

"Did  you  ever  read  the  Bible,  Douglas?"  asked  the 
preacher. 

"I've  tried  to.  If  you  ask  me  to  read  it  like  it  was 
only  more  or  less  true  history,  I  could  get  away  with 
it.  But  when  you  tell  me  it's  the  actual  word  of  God 
and  show  me  a  picture  of  God  in  long  white  whiskers 
and  a  white  robe,  why  you  can't  get  away  with  it,  that's 
all.  I  know  that  nothing  like  that  ever  produced  Fire 
Mesa  or  Lost  Chief  Range  or — or  Judith." 

Mr.  Fowler  groaned.  "Douglas,  you  are  blas 
phemous  !" 

"I'm  not.  I'm  just  unhappy.  I  think  I  was  meant  to 
be  a  religious  guy.  I'm  of  New  England  stock  and  they 
all  depended  a  lot  on  religion.  But  I  just  can't  swallow 
it." 

"And  you  never  will  as  long  as  you  take  the  point  of 
v^w  you  do.  You  must  wipe  your  mind  clear  of  all  you 
have  read  and  thought,  for  God  says  that  unless  we  become 
as  little  children,  we  cannot  believe.  Religion  is  not  a 
matter  of  knowledge  and  reason.  Religion  is  a  matter 
of  hope  and  faith." 

Douglas  sat  turning  this  over  in  his  mind,  his  yellow 
hair  rumpled,  his  clear  eyes,  with  the  sun  wrinkles  in  the 


WILD  HORSES  193 

corners,  fixed  on  the  far  snowy  gleam  of  Lost  Chief 
Range. 

"Hope  and  faith,"  he  repeated  softly. 

There  was  a  shout  from  without.  "O,  you  Doug!"  and 
Charleton  rode  up  at  a  gallop.  He  stopped  before  the 
open  door.  "I've  been  trailing  you  for  two  hours.  I  got 
three  horses  penned  up  in  a  draw  and  I  need  your  help. 
Hello,  Fowler!  What  the  devil  are  you  doing  out  here?" 

"Come  in  and  have  a  bite  of  grub,  Falkner,"  exclaimed 
the  preacher. 

"Don't  care  if  I  do!"  Charleton  threw  a  weary  leg 
across  the  saddle  and  dismounted.  Douglas,  who  had 
finished  his  meal,  returned  to  the  bunk  and  Charleton  took 
his  place. 

"Kind  of  funny  to  find  you  and  Doug  eating  together," 
said  Charleton. 

"He  should  have  given  me  a  swift  kick,"  agreed 
Douglas.  "Instead,  he  fed  me." 

"That's  sound  religion,  isn't  it?"  asked  Mr.  Fowler, 
pouring  Charleton  a  cup  of  coffee. 

"It's  sound  hospitality,  anyhow,"  replied  Charleton. 

"Aw,  any  one  would  admit  Fowler  lives  up  to  his 
faith,"  expostulated  Douglas. 

Charleton  glanced  at  the  young  rider  in  surprise. 
"What's  happened  to  you,  old  trapper?" 

"Nothing.  Only  I  wish  I  had  the  same  religion  he's 
got." 

"So's  you  could  herd  the  sheep?"  asked  Charleton. 

"So's  I  could  have  peace,"  retorted  Douglas. 

"Peace?  What  does  a  kid  like  you  want  of  peace? 
Anybody  that  can't  find  peace  in  Lost  Chief  is  a  fool." 

"I'm  no  fool!"  contradicted  Doug,  with  a  growing 
irritation  at  Charleton  for  interrupting  his  talk  with 


194     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Fowler.  "And  where  is  there  a  peaceful  person  in  Lost 
Chief?" 

"Douglas,"  said  Charleton,  "when  you  are  as  old  as 
I  am  you'll  realize  that  Lost  Chief  is  as  near  heaven  as 
man  can  hope  to  get.  A  poke  of  salt  and  a  gun  on  your 
saddle,  a  blanket  tied  behind,  a  good  horse  under  you, 
the  Persian  poet  in  your  pocket,  all  time  and  the  ranges 
before  you,  and  what  more  could  mortal  man  desire?" 

"A  woman,  you've  always  said  before,"  grunted 
Douglas. 

"I  was  holding  back  out  of  respect  to  the  sky  pilot," 
laughed  Charleton.  "But  since  you  mentioned  it,  there's 
Inez,  who's  always  ready  for  a  trip." 

Mr.  Fowler  shot  a  quick  look  at  Douglas,  who  again 
grunted  indifferently  and  rolled  a  cigarette. 

"Are  you  and  Douglas  partners,  Falkner?"  asked  the 
preacher. 

"Once  in  a  while.  Why  are  you  herding  sheep, 
Fowler?  This  herd  yours?" 

"No.  They  belong  to  a  Denver  man.  I'm  herding 
because  I  couldn't  keep  a  church  together." 

Charleton  nodded.     "The  day  of  the  church  is  over." 

There  was  silence  during  which  Charleton  devoured 
beans,  Douglas  smoked,  and  the  preacher  sat  with  his 
eyes  on  the  slow  moving  herd. 

Finally  Charleton  said,  "And  why  do  you  think  some 
thing  is  the  matter  with  Lost  Chief,  Douglas?" 

"In  other  parts  of  the  country,"  replied  Douglas,  his 
blue  eyes  fixed  unwaveringly  on  Charleton's  dark  face, 
"among  people  of  our  kind  and  breed,  a  girl  like  Judith 
couldn't  run  with  a  girl  like  Inez  and  be  considered 
decent  And  a  couple  like  Jimmy  and  Little  Marion 
couldn't  have  a  party  a  week  after  they  were  married, 


WILD  HORSES  195 

the  baby  attending,  and  be  considered  O.  K.  by  the  so- 
called  best  folks  and  nothing  more  said." 

Charleton's  face  grew  darkly  red.  "Who  told  you 
that?"  he  asked  in  an  ugly  voice. 

"I'm  not  a  fool,  as  I've  told  you  before.  And  as  you 
very  well  know,  I've  wanted  Judith  for  my  wife  ever 
since  I  was  a  boy  and  I  haven't  wanted  her  man-handled. 
And  you  know,  as  Jude  said  once,  a  girl  has  about  as 
much  chance  of  staying  straight  in  Lost  Chief  as  a  cotton 
tail  has  with  a  coyote  pack.  She's  good  because,  well, 
because  she's  Judith,  that's  all.  Now,  I  tell  you  when 
things  are  as  hard  as  that  for  a  young  girl  in  a  beautiful 
place  like  our  valley,  there's  something  wrong.  And 
look  at  Little  Marion!" 

"Leave  her  out  or  you'll  regret  it,"  snarled  Charleton. 

"I'm  not  afraid  of  you,  Charleton,"  said  Douglas,  with 
indifference  not  at  all  assumed.  "Little  Marion  is  a 
peach  of  a  girl.  She  should  have  been  a  big  influence. 
She's — she's  had  a  wrong  start." 

"She's  got  a  fine  baby  and  a  good  husband." 

"I  never  could  argue  with  you,  Charleton.  But  I 
know  Lost  Chief  is  a  bad  place  for  girls.  Why,  I'll  bet 
there  isn't  a  finer  bunch  of  girls  than  ours  in  the  world, 
for  looks  and  nerve  and  smartness.  Peter  says  he's 
never  seen  any  that  could  touch  them.  And  take  the 
stories  you  read.  Where's  a  heroine  like  Judith?" 

There  was  something  so  simple  and  so  earnest  in  Doug's 
manner  and  voice  that  the  red  died  out  of  Charleton's  face 
and  he  said,  "I'm  with  you  on  that  point,  Douglas." 

"Peter  told  me  once,"  Douglas  went  on,  "that  the 
Greek  race  was  the  finest  in  the  world  in  their  minds  and 
their  looks  and  in  every  way,  until  the  Greek  women  got 
promiscuous.  That  as  soon  as  that  happened  the  race 


196     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

began  to  decay.  And  he  said  that  there  isn't  a  nation 
in  the  world  any  stronger  than  the  virtue  of  its 
women." 

"How  old  are  you,  Douglas?"  asked  Mr.  Fowler. 

"Twenty-three.  I  just  want  to  say  this  one  thing 
more,  then  I'm  through.  When  things  like  that  happen  to 
Jimmy  and  Little  Marion,  they  aren't  doing  the  right 
thing  by  Lost  Chief,  and" — rising  with  sudden  restless 
fire — "I'd  like  to  see  Lost  Chief  be  the  kind  of  place 
my  grandfather  Douglas  wanted  it  to  be!" 

Charleton  yawned.     "We'd  better  be  moving  along." 

"Don't  go  for  a  minute,"  pleaded  Mr.  Fowler. 
"Douglas  was  right  when  he  said  that  the  whole  world 
is  hungry  for  a  belief  in  immortality.  And  as  long  as  the 
world  exists  it  will  have  that  hunger.  And  religion 
is  God's  answer  to  that  hunger.  Civilization  without 
religion  is  the  body  without  a  soul.  Religion  brings  a 
spiritual  peace  that  man  perpetually  craves  and  that  riches 
or  women  or  horses  or  the  hunt  never  brought  and  never 
can  bring.  At  heart,  there's  not  an  unhappier  man  than 
you,  Falkner.  Why?  'Because  you  have  no  belief  in 
immortality." 

"Great  God,  Fowler,  how  can  I  believe  in  it  when  I 
can't?"  shouted  Charleton. 

"Exactly!  How  can  you?"  returned  Fowler,  deliber 
ately.  "No  foul-minded  man  ever  yet  had  an  ear  for  the 
word  of  the  living  God." 

Charleton  jumped  to  his  feet.  "What  do  you  mean, 
you  bastard  cleric,  you!" 

"Aw,  come  off,  Charleton !"  exclaimed  Douglas.  "I've 
learned  more  dirt  from  you  than  I  bet  Judith  ever  has 
from  Inez.  Come  on,  let's  go  get  the  horses.  Thanks 
for  the  grub,  Mr.  Fowler." 

"You  are  very  welcome.     Don't  go  away  angry  with 


WILD  HORSES  197 

me,  Falkner.  If  I  called  you  foul-minded,  you  called  me 
by  a  foul  name." 

"I  guess  we're  <rven,"  agreed  Charleton.  "I'm  obliged 
to  you  for  the  meal."  He  swung  out  of  the  wagon, 
mounted  his  horse  and  was  off,  Douglas  following. 

Charleton  had  hobbled  his  capture  of  horses  in  a  little 
draw,  several  miles  from  the  sheep  camp.  In  the  excite 
ment  and  hard  work  of  herding  the  creatures  into  the 
camp  and  re-hobbling  them,  there  was  no  opportunity 
to  discuss  the  visit  with  the  preacher  sheep-herder.  Nor 
did  Douglas  wish  to  bring  the  matter  up  when,  long  after 
dark,  they  sat  down  to  their  supper  of  venison  and 
biscuits.  He  kept  Charleton  firmly  to  the  story  of  his 
capture  of  each  horse  and  when  this  was  done  and  the 
dishes  washed,  he  went  to  bed. 

But  long  after  Charleton  had  crawled  in  beside  him, 
Doug  lay  awake  thinking  of  Judith  and  of  the  preacher. 
He  wondered  what  influence  a  man  like  Fowler  would 
have  on  a  girl  like  Judith.  He  wondered  if  Judith  would 
come  out  with  him  to  call  on  the  preacher.  He  thought 
it  highly  improbable.  And  then  he  thought  of  Peter 
and  what  Peter  might  have  said  that  day  had  he  and 
not  Charleton  interrupted  Doug  and  the  preacher.  For 
the  thousandth  time,  he  thought  of  Peter's  love  for  his 
mother  and  he  wondered  how  his  mother  had  kept  her 
self  fine  as  Peter  said  she  had.  Perhaps  she  had  had 
some  sort  of  religious  faith. 

"I  wish  Grandfather  Douglas  had  put  the  church  up 
with  the  schoolhouse,"  he  said  to  himself.  "Maybe  it 
would  have  saved  Judith  as  well  as  Scott  Parsons." 

Then  he  gasped.  An  idea  of  overwhelming  impor 
tance  had  come  to  him.  He  lay  for  an  instant  contem 
plating  it,  then  he  crept  from  the  bunk  and  the  sheep 
wagon  into  the  open.  It  was  a  frosty,  star-lit  night. 


198     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

The  river  rushed  like  black  oil,  silver  cakes  of  ice  grind 
ing  above  the  roar  of  the  current.  The  Moose  was 
munching  on  a  wisp  of  alfalfa.  Douglas  saddled  him 
and  led  him  softly  out  of  hearing  of  the  wagon,  then 
sprang  upon  his  back  and  put  him  to  the  canter. 

Two  hours  later,  Douglas  was  banging  on  the  door 
frame  of  Fowler's  sheep  wagon. 

"It's  just  me,  Douglas  Spencer,"  he  replied  to  the 
preacher's  startled  query.  "I  had  to  come  over  to  ask 
you  something." 

A  light  flashed  through  the  canvas.  Then  the  door 
opened.  "Come  in!  Come  in!  Light  the  fire  while 
I  pull  my  boots  on.  This  is  like  the  days  when  I  was 
saving  souls  and  marrying  couples." 

Douglas  quickly  had  a  fire  blazing  and  pulled  the 
coffee-pot  forward.  He  pushed  his  hat  back  on  his 
head  and  the  candle-light  threw  into  sharp  relief  the 
firm  set  of  his  lips.  His  six-shooter  banged  on  the 
bench  as  he  sat  down  and  put  one  spurred  boot  on  the 
hearth.  The  preacher  perched  blinking  on  the  edge  of 
the  bunk.  Through  the  canvas  came  the  endless  restless 
movement  of  myriad  sheep. 

"Mr.  Fowler,"  said  Douglas,  "I  own  some  land  that 
came  to  me  from  my  mother  when  I  was  twenty-one. ' 
If  I  build  you  a  little  church  on  it,  will  you  come  to 
Lost  Chief  and  live  there  and  preach?     I'll  be  responsible 
for  your  wages." 

Fowler's  face  was  inscrutable.  "Why  do  you  want 
me  to  come,  Douglas?' 

For  the  first  time,  Doug's  voice  thickened.  "I  want 
you  to  help  Lost  Chief  and  to  save  Judith." 

"Tell  me  about  Judith." 

Douglas  hesitated,  then  he  asked,  "Catholics  have  a 
thing  they  call  the  confessional,  haven't  they?  Well, 


WILD  HORSES  199 

it's  a  good  idea  if  the  chap  they  confess  to  is  the  right 
kind.  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  your  religion  and  yet 
I  have  a  feeling  that  you  are  the  right  kind.  Judith! 
She's  twenty-one  now.  I'm  six  foot  one.  She's  about 
two  inches  shorter.  Weighs,  I  guess,  fifty  pounds 
lighter.  Finest  gray  eyes  you  ever  saw.  Red  cheeks. 
Her  mouth  used  to  be  too  big,  but  now  it's  perfect. 
Rides  and  breaks  a  horse  better  than  any  man  in  the 
Valley,  bar  none.  Loves  animals  and  can  tame  and 
train  anything.  A  great  reader." 

Douglas  paused. 

"She  sounds  very  attractive.  What's  the  trouble?'' 
asked  the  preacher. 

Douglas  twisted  his  hands  together.  "You  know 
who  Inez  Rodman  is.  Well,  she  is  Jude's  best  friend! 
And  she  has  formed  all  of  Judith's  ideas  about  love  and 
marriage." 

"Yet  you  say  Judith  is  straight?" 

"She  sure-gawd  is!  But  how  can  it  last?  She's 
restless  and  discontented  and  Inez  is  brilliant,  feeds 
Judith's  mind." 

"Has  her  mother  any  influence  over  her?" 

"None  at  all." 

"How  about  her  father?"  asked  the  preacher. 

"Of  course,  he's  only  her  foster-father.  She  likes 
him  and  she  hates  him.  He  certainly  couldn't  help  her." 

"And  you  are  sure  there  is  no  hope  in  Judith's . 
mother?" 

"O  she's  just  broken,  like  a  patient  fool  horse. 
Good  as  gold,  you  know,  but  with  about  as  much  influ 
ence  over  Jude  as  a  kitten.  Judith  hasn't  any  one  to 
tie  to,  not  any  one.  Peter  is  all  right  but  he  jaws  too 
much.  She  hasn't  any  one." 

"Doesn't  she  care  for  you?" 


200     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"She  says  she's  fond  of  me.  Fond  of  me!  I'd 
rather  she  hated  me.  I'd  as  soon  have  a  dish  of  cold 
mush  from  a  woman  like  Jude,  as  fondness." 

"And  do  you  think  I  could  influence  Judith?" 

"I  don't  know.  But  I  want  you  to  try.  And  it 
isn't  all  Judith  with  me.  I  love  Lost  Chief.  I  never 
want  to  live  anywhere  else.  And  I'd  like  to  see  it  the 
kind  of  a  place  my  grandfather  Douglas  wanted  it  to 
be.  No,  it  honestly  isn't  all  for  Judith,  though  she's 
the  beginning  and  the  end  of  it." 

There  was  something  almost  affectionate  in  the 
preacher's  deep-set  eyes  as  he  watched  Douglas. 

"Do  you  realize,  my  boy,  what  you  are  asking? 
When  you  bring  a  preacher  into  Lost  Chief,  you  are 
going  to  rouse  an  antagonism  against  yourself  that  will 
astound  you.  These  people  are  of  New  England  stock. 
There  is  no  more  intelligent  stock  in  America,  nor  stock 
that  is  more  conceited,  more  narrow,  more  obstinate, 
nor  more  ruthless.  And  the  farther  a  New  Englander 
gets  from  religion,  the  more  brutal  his  virtues  become. 
If  you  take  me  into  Lost  Chief,  you  are  going  to  start 
a  depth  of  strife  of  which  we  cannot  foresee  the  end." 

"I  hadn't  thought  of  that,"  said  Douglas.  He  rested 
his  chin  on  his  palm  and  eyed  the  glowing  stove  thought 
fully.  "I  guess  you  are  right,"  finally;  "nothing  makes 
Lost  Chief  folks  so  mad  as  to  have  some  one  hint  they 
aren't  perfect."  Then  he  chuckled.  "It'll  be  a  real 
man's  fight.  I  wonder  what  Jude  will  say!  Are  you 
afraid,  Mr.  Fowler?" 

"Afraid?  Yes!  I'm  not  as  young  as  I  was  once  and 
I  am  not  over-anxious  for  such  a  struggle.  But  this 
thing  isn't  in  my  hands.  If  ever  the  Almighty  showed 
Himself  a  directing  force,  He  is  showing  it  here.  This 
is  what  He  ordained  from  the  day  you  drove  me  out 


WILD  HORSES  201 

of  the  schoolhouse.  Do  you  remember  what  I  said  to 
you?" 

"You  quoted  the  Bible,  I  think.  I  don't  remember 
what  it  was." 

"I  said,  'Ye  shall  find  no  place  to  repent  you,  though 
ye  seek  for  it  with  tears.'  ' 

Douglas  murmured  the  words  over  to  himself.  His 
face  worked  a  little.  "It's  true!  It's  the  living  truth!" 
he  exclaimed  unevenly.  "Not  that  I've  got  anything 
to  repent — "  he  hesitated.  "What  is  repentance?  What 
is  life?  Where  is  God,  if  there  is  a  God?  What  does 
it  all  mean,  anyhow?" 

The  preacher  said  slowly,  "  'There  is  a  Divinity  that 
shapes  our  ends,  rough  hew  them  as  \ve  will.'  That's 
what  it  all  means.  When  shall  you  be  ready  for  me, 
Douglas  ?" 

"I  think  the  fall  would  be  best.  Suppose  we  say 
right  after  the  round-up.  I'll  look  for  you  on  the  twen 
tieth  of  September." 

"That  will  suit  me.  I  can  then  give  my  boss  ample 
notice." 

"\Vhat  pay  will  you  want,   Mr.   Fowler?" 

"Just  enough  to  feed  and  clothe  me.  We'll  arrange 
that  after  we  get  a  church  established." 

Douglas  rose  with  a  broad  grin.  "I  sure-gawd  have 
let  myself  in  for  something  now,"  he  said.  "But  I'll 
take  care  of  you,  Mr.  Fowler." 

"All  right,  young  Moses,"  returned  the  preacher,  smil 
ing  into  Doug's  eager  face.  "Good-night." 

Charleton  was  still  sound  asleep  when  Douglas  at 
dawn  lay  down  beside  him  and  slipped  into  dreamless 
slumber. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  LOG  CHAPEL 

"Don't  take  any  responsibility  that  you  don't  have  to. 
That's  my  idea  of  a  happy  life." 

— Young  Jeff. 

"D  Y  eight  o'clock  the  next  morning  they  had  broken 
••-*  camp  and  had  started  homeward,  with  their  kicking, 
squealing  herd  of  wild  horses.  The  little  black  mare 
alone  led  docilely.  It  was  a  difficult  trip  back  to  the 
valley  and  Douglas  was  grateful  for  this,  for  it  kept 
Charleton  from  airing  the  cynical  comments  Douglas 
knew  he  was  evolving  in  regard  to  the  preacher.  And 
Douglas  was  filled  with  a  new  purpose  fulness  that  was 
almost  happiness.  He  did  not  want  Charleton  to  ob 
trude  himself  upon  this  new-found  content. 

They  reached  Lost  Chief  late  one  afternoon  and 
Douglas  found  himself  and  the  trembling  mare  at  home 
in  time  for  supper.  The  family  came  out  to  the  corral 
to  examine  the  prize. 

"She's  got  some  mighty  good  points/'  said  John ;  "but 
I  doubt  if  you'll  ever  be  able  to  do  anything  with  her. 
She's  wild.  And  she'll  die  of  homesickness  for  the 
range.  Once  in  a  while  you  see  'em  like  that." 

"She  has  an  intelligent  eye."  Judith  was  going  over 
the  horse  eagerly. 

Douglas  smiled  a  little.  The  range  horse,  with  its 
slender,  hard-muscled  beauty,  was  no  finer  drawn  than 
Judith  circling  carefully  about  the  corral,  the  wind 
whipping  her  black  hair  across  her  thin,  vivid  face. 

202 


THE  LOG  CHAPEL  203 

"I  don't  believe  she'll  eat  with  us  all  watching  her," 
said  Mary.  "Let's  go  in  to  our  own  supper." 

"She'll  have  to  eat  pretty  soon  or  give  up."  Douglas 
followed  Judith  into  the  kitchen.  "She  hasn't  eaten 
a  pound  since  I  caught  her." 

"Poor  little  thing!"  exclaimed  Judith. 

At  supper  Douglas  gave  the  details  of  the  hunt, 
which  were  greeted  by  the  family  with  considerable 
hilarity. 

"One  no-account  horse  to  show  for  a  week's  hard 
work!1'  laughed  John. 

But  Douglas  was  not  perturbed. 

"I  don't  mind,"  he  said.  "Wild  horses  was  the  least 
of  what  I  went  after  and,  as  it  turned  out,  the  least  of 
what  I  got.  I  met  Mr.  Fowler." 

"The  old  preacher?"  exclaimed  Judith.  "Where  was 
he?" 

"He  starved  out  at  preaching  and  is  herding  sheep 
down  in  the  Green  Thimble  country.  He  fed  Charleton 
and  me  and  we  had  a  long  talk." 

"You  had  nerve  to  eat  with  him  after  what  you  did 
to  him !"  John  was  grinning. 

"I  felt  that  way  myself,"  agreed  Douglas.  "But  he 
didn't  hold  a  grudge  against  me.  He's  not  that  kind. 
And  I  think  he  was  so  lonely  he'd  have  been  glad  to 
feed  the  Old  Nick  himself." 

"Who  is  he  herding  for?"  asked  Mary. 

"Some  one  in  Denver.  He's  going  to  give  it  up  in 
the  fall." 

"What  for?  Got  a  church?"  John  was  still  grin 
ning. 

Douglas  nodded  slowly.     "Yes,  he's  got  a  church." 

"Did  he  tell  you  where?"  asked  Mary. 

"Yes;   it's   in  Lost  Chief,"   replied  Douglas. 


204     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"Lost  Chief!"  roared  John.  "What  are  you  giving 
us?" 

"I'm  giving  it  to  you  straight.  I  asked  him  if  he 
would  come  if  I'd  build  him  a  little  church  up  on  my 
part  of  the  ranch  and  he  said  he  would." 

There  was  a  stunned  silence  while  the  audience  of  three 
considered  this  reply.  Judith  eyed  Doug  intently,  then 
said,  "I  bite!  What  is  the  joke,  Douglas?" 

"No  joke.  I  asked  him  to  come.  I  want  to  hear 
what  he  has  to  say." 

"What  did  Charleton  say  about  it?"  asked  Mary. 

"Charleton  doesn't  know.  I  certainly  wouldn't  give 
him  a  chance  to  spoil  the  trip."  Douglas  tossed  the 
thick  yellow  hair  from  his  forehead  and  waited  for  his 
father's  comment.  He  could  not  recall  ever  having 
carried  on  a  more  difficult  conversation  than  this. 
There  were  beads  of  sweat  on  his  upper  lip.  Old  Fowler 
had  warned  him  of  the  antagonism  he  would  meet. 
And  here  it  was.  The  air  was  black  with  it  before  a 
hundred  words  had  been  spoken. 

John  scratched  his  head.  "You  mean  you  actually 
asked  that  old  fool  to  come  here  and  preach  in  Lost 
Chief?" 

Douglas  nodded  over  a  piece  of  pie.  "Only,"  he 
added,  "he's  not  a  fool.  Far  from  it.  We  may  not 
agree  with  him,  but  he's  a  wise  man.  A  very  wise 
old  man." 

"And  you  are  going  to  build  a  church  for  him?" 
John  went  on. 

Again  Douglas  nodded. 

"Are  you  plumb  loco?"     John's  voice  began  to  rise. 

Douglas'  color  was  deepening  but  he  had  himself  well 
in  hand.  "Maybe  I  am  loco.  But  it  can't  hurt  any 
one  to  have  Fowler  here,  can  it?" 


THE  LOG  CHAPEL  205 

"I  guess  he  won't  stay  long  enough  to  do  any  actual 
harm !"  Judith  laughed. 

"He's  going  to  stay  quite  a  spell,"  returned  Doug. 
"I'm  going  to  see  that  he  does." 

"But  everybody  will  make  fun  of  him  and  of  you 
too,"  volunteered  Mary. 

"Probably,"  agreed  Douglas.  "But  even  at  that  I 
doubt  if  they  have  as  much  fun  as  I  do.  My  sense  of 
humor  is  my  strong  point!" 

"Huh!"  sniffed  Judith.  "You'll  need  more  than  what 
you  have,  Douglas,  in  this  campaign." 

"Look  here,  Doug,"  urged  his  father  with  an  obvious 
effort  to  be  patient,  "just  what  is  the  joke?" 

"Now  listen,  Dad!  It's  not  a  joke.  I'm  in  deadly 
earnest.  I  haven't  got  a  particle  of  religion  in  me  but 
I'm  interested  in  that  line  of  talk  to  see  if  I  can  discover 
what  other  folks  get  out  of  it.  Peter  Knight  is  not 
a  fool.  He  knows  the  world  and  he  says  Lost  Chief 
needs  a  church.  All  right,  it's  going  to  have  one." 

"Peter  Knight  is  some  advocate,  all  right!"  growled 
John.  "He's  always  saying  he  had  a  religious  up-bring 
ing,  and  look  at  him!  Fourth-class  postmaster  in  a 
cow  valley!" 

"I  don't  suppose  his  religious  up-bringing  had  a  thing 
to  do  with  that,"  said  Douglas. 

"Then  what's  the  good  of  a  religion?"  John's  voice 
was  triumphant.  Douglas  said  nothing  and  his  father 
went  on.  "You'll  be  the  laughing-stock  of  the  Valley. 
You  can  let  on  you  won't  care,  but  I  know  you  will." 

"Yes,  I'll  care,"  admitted  Douglas.  "But  that  can't 
be  helped.  It  seems  to  be  a  part  of  the  game." 

"Well,  he  can't  come  to  this  house!"  roared  John. 
"I  wouldn't  have  one  of  that  breed  on  the  place.  Mind 
you  keep  him  off  this  ranch,  Doug." 


206     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"I  expected  you  to  say  that."  Douglas'  jaw  was  set. 
"That's  why  I  plan  to  build  him  a  cabin  up  on  my 
section.  Grandfather's  old  cabin  isn't  worth  fixing  up." 

He  did  not  look  at  Judith  as  he  spoke.  Had  he  done 
so  he  would  have  been  puzzled  by  the  wistfulness  in  her 
eyes. 

"I  sure  wonder,  Doug,"  said  John  irritably,  "where 
you  get  your  crazy  notions!" 

"He's  exactly  like  his  grandfather  Douglas!"  ex 
claimed  Mary. 

"His  grandfather  Douglas!"  cried  John.  "Why,  the 
old  man  would  kick  the  stones  off  his  grave  if  he  knew 
what  his  grandson  was  up  to.  He  used  to  boast  that 
he  came  West  just  to  get  rid  of  the  Presbyterians  and 
the  Allopaths.  Nothing  he  hated  like  a  sky  pilot !" 

Douglas  rose  and  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Well," 
he  said,  "if  I'm  as  popular  with  the  rest  of  the  Valley 
as  I  am  with  my  family,  I'm  liable  to  have  my  head 
turned  before  this  thing  is  over,"  and  he  went  out  to 
attend  to  his  chores. 

As  he  paused  by  the  corral  fence  to  watch  the  little 
wild  horse  standing  motionless  over  the  untasted  hay, 
Judith  joined  him. 

"Looks  as  if  Dad  might  be  right  about  her,"  he  said. 

"I'd  like  to  try  my  hand  at  her,  Douglas."  Judith's 
voice  was  eager. 

"You  may  have  her,  Jude.  I  was  hoping  to  bring 
you  in  two  or  three,  but  Fate  said  otherwise." 

"I'm  much  obliged  to  you,  Douglas,"  said  Judith 
soberly.  "You  are  always  mighty  generous — "  She 
hesitated  for  a  moment.  "I  wish  you  weren't  going  in 
for  this  thing  with  the  preacher,  Doug." 

"O  well,  let's  drop  the  matter!"  said  Douglas  wearily, 
and  without  a  word  further  Judith  turned  away. 


THE  LOG  CHAPEL  207 

The  next  morning  at  breakfast,  John  was  irritable  and 
would  not  let  the  subject  of  Fowler's  coming  rest. 

"What  did  Charleton  say?"  he  asked. 

"Charleton  doesn't  know,"  replied  Douglas,  patiently. 
"He  wasn't  there  when  I  talked  it  over  with  the  preacher." 

"I'll  bet  he  wasn't  or  you  never  would  have  gotten 
away  with  it,"  growled  John. 

"Sure!  I'm  a  nervous  man  about  Charleton,"  grinned 
Douglas.  "Come  now,  Dad!  Why  should  you  be  sore 
at  the  idea?" 

"Lots  of  reasons!  I  hate  a  man  who  thinks  he's 
enough  superior  to  me  to  tell  me  how  to  behave.  And 
I  feel  sore  as  a  pup  that  my  son  should  be  bringing  such 
a  man  into  the  Valley.  All  the  folks  will  say  you  are 
criticizing  them.  I'm  not  going  to  let  you  do  it,  Doug 
las!" 

Douglas  gave  a  short  laugh,  which  was  echoed  by 
Judith. 

John  grew  red.  "My  father  would  have  thrashed 
me  when  I  was  a  grown  man  if  I'd  laughed  at  him  like 
that!" 

"O  well,  look  at  the  man  he  was !''  chuckled  Judith. 

"Don't  you  speak  that  way  to  rne!"  roared  John. 
"The  children  of  this  generation  certainly  are  a  bad  lot! 
But  one  thing  you  two  will  remember.  I'm  master  of 
this  house  and  as  long  as  you  stay  here  you'll  obey  me! 
And  you  just  Jet  me  hear  you  telling  anybody,  Doug, 
of  your  crazy  plan  and  you'll  learn  for  the  first  time 
what  I  am!" 

"Then  you  won't  help  me  put  up  my  buildings?" 
asked  Douglas. 

"Not  for  the  use  of  any  fool  preacher!"  shouted  his 
father. 

Douglas  lighted  a  cigarette  and  went  out.     For  the 


208    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

first  time  a  sense  of  disappointment  marred  the  beauty 
of  the  plan  he  had  perfected  with  the  preacher.  He 
realized  now  that  he  had  counted  on  Judith's  being 
interested  even  were  she  antagonistic.  But  she  was 
indifferent.  He  would  have  preferred  that  she  be  re 
sentful  like  his  father.  There  was  nothing  tangible  there 
to  struggle  against.  One  could  neither  fight  nor  urge 
indifference.  Then  he  set  his  jaws.  Judith  should  see! 
He  knew  whither  he  was  going  now.  He  had  found 
the  fine  straight  line  of  which  Peter  had  spoken,  long 
ago,  and  he  would  hew  to  it,  at  whatever  cost.  And 
Judith  could  not,  must  not  fail  him.  If  only  he  knew 
the  things  she  really  thought!  His  jaw  was  still  set 
as  he  watched  the  little  wild  mare,  now  ceaselessly  circ 
ling  the  corral  fence,  her  face  to  the  hills.  Judith 
crossed  to  the  bars  and  Douglas  turned  away. 

There  still  was  too  much  frost  in  the  ground  for 
spring  work  on  the  ranch  and  it  would  be  a  month  before 
the  cattle  could  be  driven  up  into  the  Reserve.  It  was 
during  this  month  that  Douglas  had  planned  to  put  up 
two  cabins  on  his  ranch,  one  for  the  church,  the  other 
for  himself  and  Fowler  to  occupy.  He  had  accumu 
lated  a  sufficient  number  of  logs  to  more  than  supply  his 
needs  and  he  had  counted  on  his  father's  help  in  erect 
ing  the  buildings.  He  wondered  now  if  Peter  would 
help  him,  and  old  Johnny  Brown.  That  afternoon  he 
rode  down  to  the  post-office. 

Peter  was  breathlessly  interested.  "You'd  better 
keep  it  quiet,  Doug,  till  the  old  man  gets  here,"  he  said. 
"If  you  get  old  Johnny  up  there,  don't  give  him  an 
inkling." 

Douglas  nodded.     "Then  I  can  count  on  you,  Peter?" 

The  postmaster  eyed  the  young  rider  keenly.     John 


THE  LOG  CHAPEL  209 

Spencer  had  never  been  the  man  his  son  had  grown  to 
be! 

"Do  you  mean  count  on  me  for  the  plan  or  the 
cabins?"  asked  Peter. 

"Both!" 

"Yes,  you  can,  Douglas!  I  don't  know  whether  the 
plan  is  a  good  one  or  not.  But  I'm  delighted  to  see  you 
taking  a  step  like  this.  It's  gratifying  to  me,  Doug.  It 
is  indeed;  and  I  know  your  mother  would  have  been 
delighted."  Peter's  voice  broke,  and  he  said  harshly, 
"Now,  get  along,  Doug.  I've  got  to  sort  the  mail." 

For  the  first  time  that  day,  Douglas'  lips  wore  a  little 
smile.  He  whistled  to  Prince,  who  had  grown  too  lazy 
of  late  to  propitiate  Sister  as  he  had  in  his  younger  days 
and  who  was  keeping  that  growling  old  Amazon  at  her 
distance  by  snapping  at  her  viciously.  Prince  lunged 
over  to  Pard's  heels  and  Doug  started  off  for  his  call 
on  Johnny  Brown. 

"I  deponed  I'd  come,  didn't  I?"  asked  old  Johnny. 
"It's  been  a  gregus  long  time  and  I'm  only  half-muscled 
as  well  as  half-witted  now.  But  I'll  come.  I'd  help 
you  build  a  cabin  in  hell  if  you  wanted  me  to.  Honest, 
I  would,  Doug." 

Douglas  did  not  laugh.  "Thanks,  Johnny !  Then  I'll 
look  for  you  to-morrow." 

"I  deponed  I'd  come,  didn't  I?"  repeated  the  old  fellow, 
and  he  was  still  deponing  when  Douglas  started  home 
ward. 

Peter  inveigled  Young  Jeff  into  taking  the  post-office 
for  a  couple  of  weeks.  Post-office  keeping  did  not  accord 
at  all  with  the  ideas  of  pleasant  living  of  the  native-born 
of  Lost  Chief.  Undoubtedly  if  Peter  had  not  offered 
his  services  year  after  year  there  would  have  been,  a 


210    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

great  part  of  the  time,  no  post-office  in  the  Valley.  But 
Peter  had  means  of  his  own  with  which  to  piece  out  the 
salary  and  for  some  inscrutable  reason  he  clung  to  the 
sort  of  prestige  he  enjoyed  in  the  community  as  a  Federal 
employee.  His  friends  always  protested  violently  at 
substituting  for  him,  but  always  gave  in,  fearful  lest 
Peter  carry  out  his  threat  of  giving  up  the  job.  So  he 
appeared  at  Douglas'  ranch,  bright  and  early,  bringing 
a  graphic  account  of  Young  Jeff's  despair  over  a  pile 
of  second-class  mail. 

Lost  Chief  Creek  bordered  one  edge  of  Douglas'  acres. 
Dead  Line  Peak  pushed  an  abrupt  shoulder  into  the 
stream  at  the  northwest  corner.  Below  this  shoulder 
lay  a  grove  of  silvery  aspens  and  of  blue  spruce,  dripping 
with  great  bronze  cones.  Just  above  the  flood  line  of 
the  creek,  Douglas  trimmed  out  enough  trees  from  the 
grove  to  give  elbow-room  for  the  cabins  and  corrals. 
By  the  end  of  Peter's  two  weeks,  the  heaviest  part  of 
the  building  had  been  done. 

On  the  last  day  of  the  fortnight — it  had  been  a  very 
pleasant  fortnight  for  Peter — he  and  Douglas  dawdled 
long  over  their  noon  meal  \vhile  old  Johnny  began  the 
work  he  loved,  the  chinking  of  the  log  walls.  Leaning 
against  a  log  at  the  edge  of  the  clearing,  Lost  Chief 
Valley  sloped  below  them.  A  blue  line  of  smoke  rose 
from  the  Spencer  chimney. 

"Dad  is  sure  sore  at  me  this  time,"  said  Douglas. 
"He's  hardly  spoken  to  me  for  a  week." 

"About  Fowler,  I  suppose." 

"Yes.  He  feels  that  I  am  disgracing  him.  He's  sure 
I'm  going  to  turn  religious.  I  can't  make  him  believe 
that  that  is  not  why  I'm  bringing  Fowler  in." 

"What  is  your  real  reason,  Doug?"  asked  Peter,  taking 
a  huge  bite  of  cold  fried  beef. 


THE  LOG  CHAFEL  211 

"I  don't  want  to  turn  religious.  I  don't  want  to  be 
anything  that's  queer  or  unreasonable.  What  I  want  is 
to  get  to  believe — in  a  future  life." 

Peter  laughed.     "Isn't  that  religion?'' 

"I  don't  think  so!  You  can  believe  in  immortality 
without  believing  in  miracles  and  that  Eve  was  made 
out  of  a  man's  rib,  and  without  being  goody-goody." 

Peter  made  no  comment  for  a  moment.  He  finished 
his  beef  and  lighted  his  pipe  before  he  said,  "I  have  an 
idea  that  the  kind  of  a  mind  that  can  believe  in  the 
soul's  floating  around  in  space  can  swallow  the  rib  story 
without  much  choking.  What  I  want  to  see  in  Lost 
Chief  is  the  kind  of  ethics  that  Christ  taught." 

"Ethics!  Ethics!"  scoffed  the  younger  man.  "Who 
gives  a  hang  about  ethics  if  they  aren't  going  to  help  us 
live  again?  You  can  bet  I  don't!  Ethics  may  do  for 
a  cold-blooded  guy  like  you,  Peter.  But  me!  I  want 
something  as  big  and  as  real  and  as  warm-looking  as  Fire 
Mesa." 

"Poor  old  Fowler!"  groaned  Peter. 

Douglas  glanced  at  the  postmaster  questioningly ;  then 
his  eyes  wandered  back  toward  the  ranch  house.  A 
tiny  figure  in  blue  leaped  on  a  horse  and  was  off  at  a 
gallop. 

"Judith's  going  to  Inez'  place,"  said  Douglas. 

"She  sees  too  much  of  Inez !"  Peter  scowled.  "Her 
mind  is  getting  exactly  Inez'  twist  to  it." 

"There  was  a  time  when  you  told  me  Inez  could  give 
Judith  good  advice."  Doug's  voice  was  bitter. 

"So  she  could.  But  I  never  said  Inez  and  Jude  should 
be  buddies,  did  I?" 

Douglas  threw  his  cigarette  into  the  creek  and  rolled 
over  on  his  face  with  a  groan.  "I'm  sick  of  worrying 
about  it!"  he  said. 


212     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"Does  she  still  talk  about  going  the  round  of  the 
rodeos  with  a  string  of  buckers?" 

"No.  She  says  that  was  just  kid  stuff.  She  has  an 
idea  now  she'll  breed  thoroughbred  horses."  Douglas 
turned  over  on  his  back  and  gazed  up  into  the  heavens, 
where  an  eagle  hung,  motionless. 

"Lord!  Breeding  horses  is  no  work  for  Jude!"  cried 
Peter. 

Douglas  did  not  reply.  Peter  eyed  the  young  man's 
clean,  hawk-like  profile  and  went  on.  "What  does  she 
say  about  you  and  Fowler?'' 

"She  laughs  at  me." 

"Do  you  think  you  can  get  her  in  touch  with  Fowler?" 

Douglas  sat  up  with  a  jerk.  "Get  her  in  touch  with 
him?  Say,  what  do  you  think  I'm  bringing  that  sky 
pilot  in  here  for?  You  can  bet  she'll  get  in  touch  with 
him !  I'll  show  that  girl  I  haven't  played  all  my  cards 
yet!" 

Peter  stared  long  and  unblinkingly  at  Douglas.  "Well, 
I'll  be  damned!"  he  muttered  and  filled  his  pipe  again. 

The  summer  passed  for  Douglas  with  extraordinary 
rapidity.  Profiting  by  the  experience  of  the  previous 
winter,  every  rancher  put  in  as  heavy  a  grain  crop  as 
he  could  handle  and  there  was  little  leisure  in  the  Valley 
during  July  and  August.  Lost  Chief  was,  of  course, 
immensely  interested  in  Doug's  building  operations.  He 
was  accused  of  planning  to  be  married  and  conjecture 
ran  rife.  When  he  began  work  in  the  interior  of  the 
log  chapel,  he  hung  burlap  bags  over  the  windows  and 
locked  the  doors.  But  his  precautions  were  futile.  By 
the  middle  of  June,  every  ranch  in  the  valley  was  talking 
about  Douglas  Spencer's  motion-picture  hall  and 
wondered  why  he  was  building  it  so  far  from  the  center 


THE  LOG  CHAPEL  213 

of  the  community.     The  truth  came  out  in  an  entirely 
unexpected  manner. 

About  a  week  before  he  expected  the  preacher, 
Douglas  rode  down  in  the  evening  for  his  mail.  Peter 
had  gone  to  Mountain  City  on  a  rare  visit  and  Young 
Jeff  was  acting  as  postmaster  again.  Scott  Parsons 
was  helping  him  sort  the  mail  and  it  was  Scott  who 
fell  upon  a  battered  suitcase,  tied  with  frayed  rope. 

"What's  this  mess?"   he  exclaimed.     "Let's  see  this 
tag."     He  shoved  the  suitcase  close  to  the  lamp.     "  'The 
Rev.  Mr.  James  Fowler.     Care  of  Douglas  Spencer.' ' 
Scott  looked  up  with  an  oath.     "What  do  you  know 
about  this!"  he  gasped. 

Douglas,  standing  with  his  back  to  the  cold  stove, 
said  nothing. 

Young  Jeff  dropped  the  handful  of  letters  he  was 
distributing,  and  examined  the  tag  for  himself.  "Old 
Fowler,  eh?  Thought  he  was  dead  long  ago.  What's 
he  coming  to  see  you  for,  Doug?  Going  to  preach — 
He  paused  and  his  eyes  grew  round.  "Doug's  motion- 
picture  theater!  The  sky  pilot!  That  cabin  is  a 
church!" 

Scott  gave  a  gasp,  followed  by  a  shout  of  laughter. 
"How  about  it,  Doug?" 

Douglas  grinned. 

"What  are  you  doing,  Douglas?  Starting  a  ranch 
for  broken-down  sky  pilots?"  asked  Young  Jeff. 

Still  Douglas  made  no  reply.  He  strode  over  to  the 
table  and  put  his  hand  on  the  suitcase. 

"Hold  on!"  protested  Scott.  "Answer  a  few  questions. 
What  are  you  trying  to  put  over  on  us,  Douglas?" 

"You'll  know,  pretty  soon,"  answered  Doug. 

"Well,  you  always  were  loco  but  I  never  thought  you'd 


214     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

get  real  dangerous,  till  now!"  exclaimed  Young  Jeff. 
"Listen,  don't  try  to  put  that  guy  over  on  us,  Doug!" 

Scott  stood  eying  Douglas  with  a  mixture  of  curiosity 
and  impatience  in  his  hard  eyes.  He  had  just  parted  his 
lips  to  speak  when  the  door  opened  and  Charleton  and 
Jimmy  came  in. 

"Look  at  here,  Charleton!"  roared  Young  Jeff. 
"Look  at  the  address  on  this  bag!" 

The  two  newcomers  scrutinized  the  tag.  "Well,"  said 
Jimmy,  "I'll  be  everlastingly  dehorned,  vaccinated  and 
branded!" 

Charleton's  mouth  twisted.  "So  the  old  fool  got  you, 
Doug!  You've  got  hard  nerve,  that's  all  I  have  to  say!" 

"Nerve!  I'll  say  so!"  cried  Scott.  "What's  the  great 
idea,  Doug?  Going  to  bring  Lost  Chief  up  to  your 
level,  huh?" 

Douglas'  cheeks  were  burning.  He  jerked  the  suit 
case  from  the  table  and  started  for  the  door. 

"Believe  me,  cowman,"  called  Scott  after  him,  "you 
and  the  sky  pilot  have  laid  out  a  course  of  trouble  for 
yourselves." 

Douglas  paused  with  his  hand  on  the  latch.  "You 
are  a  pack  of  coyotes !"  he  said  and  he  slammed  the  door 
after  himself. 

And  so  the  secret  was  out !  Nothing  that  had  occurred 
in  the  Valley  for  years  had  stirred  the  ranchers  so  deeply. 
There  was  much  joking  and  derisive  laughter  but  beneath 
this  was  a  sense  of  resentment  that  grew  day  by  day. 
Grandma  Brown,  Peter  of  course,  and  Frank  Day  were 
sympathetic  to  the  idea.  Some  of  the  older  women 
wondered  if  it  might  not  be  a  good  thing  in  giving  the 
young  fry  a  place  to  go  on  Sundays.  But  the  young  fry, 
with  huge  enjoyment  not  untinged  with  malice,  planned 
to  run  the  preacher  out  of  the  Valley  in  short  order  and  to 


THE  LOG  CHAPEL  215 

mete  out  such  treatment  to  Douglas  as  would  prevent 
his  making  a  like  fool  of  himself  again. 

Douglas  had  set  up  housekeeping  in  the  new  cabin 
now,  and  on  the  night  before  he  expected  Mr.  Fowler, 
Judith  rode  up  to  see  his  new  home.  Old  Johnny  had 
gone  down  to  the  post-office  and  Douglas  finished  his 
supper  and  was  sitting  on  the  doorstep  when  Judith 
galloped  up,  with  the  Wolf  Cub  under  the  heels  of  her 
mount. 

"This  is  my  first  real  ride  on  the  little  wild  mare," 
she  said,  dropping  from  the  saddle. 

"Has  she  gotten  over  her  homesickness,  yet?"  asked 
Douglas. 

"I  think  so.  At  least,  she  follows  me  around  about  as 
close  as  Wolf  Cub  does." 

"You  are  a  wonder,  Judith!  I  wish  you  thought  as 
much  of  me  as  you  do  of  your  horses  and  dog." 

"You  wouldn't  let  me  train  you,  Doug,"  said  Judith 
plaintively. 

Douglas  laughed.  "A  whole  lot  you'd  think  of  a  man 
you  could  train!" 

Judith  laughed,  too,  sitting  down  on  the  step  beside 
Douglas.  For  a  moment  she  was  silent,  then  she  said 
softly:  "How  you  must  love  it  up  here!" 

"I  do!  But  I'll  be  glad  when  old  Johnny  can  be  with 
me  all  the  time.  I  don't  like  this  bachelor  stuff." 

"You  and  Scott  ought  to  join  forces,"  Judith's  voice 
was  mischievous.  "By  the  way,  Scott's  heard  of  a 


dollars." 

"I  wouldn't  trust  Scott  to  pick  a  horse  for  me,"  grunted 
Douglas. 

"And  you'd  be  foolish  if  you  did,"  agreed  Judith. 
"But  he'll  play  fair  enough  with  me." 


216    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"He  will  if  it's  to  his  interest  to  do  so.  If  he  can 
make  anything  off  you  by  being  crooked,  he'll  be  crooked. 
But  I  suppose  there's  no  use  in  me  warning  you.  Have 
you  got  the  money  for  the  mare?" 

"Only  half  of  it.  All  the  stock  I've  been  able  to  raise 
and  sell  in  the  last  five  years  amounts  to  about  two 
hundred  and  fifty-six  dollars.'' 

"I'll  lend  you  the  rest,"  offered  Douglas. 

"Dad  said  he'd  let  me  have  it,  and  so  did  Inez.  But 
I'd  rather  borrow  from  you." 

Douglas  flushed  with  pleasure.  "Had  you,  Judith? 
Tell  me  why!" 

"I  don't  like  to  be  under  obligations  to  Dad :  and  Inez* 
money — well,  I  don't  fed  keen  about  her  money.  As 
for  you — Doug,  it's  queer,  but  I'd  just  as  soon  ask  you 
for  anything.  I  don't  know  whether  it's  a  compliment 
to  you  or  not" 

"I  consider  it  a  compliment,"  said  Douglas  softly.  "I 
had  no  idea  you  had  that  sort  of  confidence  in  me.'' 

"O,  I'm  not  such  a  wild  woman  that  I  don't  know  a 
real  man  when  I  see  one,  Doug, — even  if  you  are  making 
an  idiot  of  yourself  just  now !  You  should  have  planned 
to  be  more  tactful  about  bringing  your  old  skv  pilot  in 
here." 

"Tactful!  What  a  word !"  exclaimed  Douglas,  "For 
heaven's  sake,  Jude,  don't  you  get  the  idea  better  than 
that?  This  is  a  matter  of — "  He  hesitated,  at  a  loss  for 
a  moment  for  a  word  that  should  tell  Judith  something  of 
the  yearning  conflict  that  obsessed  him.  "This  is  a 
battle,"  he  said  finally,  "a  fight  to  the  finish  for — for — '' 
then  he  blurted  out  the  word  that  in  Lost  Chief  was  taboo 
— "for  souls!"  exclaimed  Douglas. 

Judith  looked  at  him  quickly;  but  to  Douglas*  vast  re- 


THE  LOG  CHAPEL  217 

lief  she  did  not  laugh.  Instead,  her  eyes  were  deep  with 
some  emotion  he  could  not  name. 

"I  don't  think  I  understand  you,  Doug,"  she  said  at 
last.  "I  couldn't  get  so  worked  up  over  anything  that 
had  to  do  with  religion.  But  I  do  see  that  it  means  a 
lot  to  you  and  I  think  you're  foolish  to  trust  to  a  man 
like  Fov.ier  to  put  anything  over  in  this  valley  for  you.'* 

"You  don't  know  my  old  sky  pilot  like  I  do,"  insisted 
Doug. 

"Yes.  you  must  have  got  a  deep  knowledge  of  him  in 
one  night!" 

"I  sure  did!"  said  Douglas  simply. 

"You  are  sure  that  you  realize  how  bitterly  the  VaBey 
resents  your  doing  this?" 

"Yes.  And  the  Valley  had  better  realize,  if  it  plans 
trouble,  that  I'm  neither  soft,  nor  easy." 

"I  just  wish  you  weren't  trying  to  do  it,"  repeated 
Judith. 

"\\hat  do  you  want  me  to  do?"  asked  Douglas. 

''AYhy.  be  a  first-class  rancher,  make  money,  and  travel 
and  learn  something  about  life." 

"That's  what  I  plan  to  do.  But  I  want  to  do  more 
than  that.  I  want  to  fix  Lost  Chief  so  that  a  couple 
of  kids  like  you  and  me  don't  have  to  learn  all  they 
know  about  real  things  from  a  woman  like  Inez  and  a 
man  like  Charleton.  And  if  a  sky  pilot  can  answer  those 
questions  right,  why  I'm  going  to  have  one  in  here  if  I 
have  to  mount  guard  on  him,  day  and  night.  My  kids 
are  going  to  grow  up  right  here  in  Lost  Chief  and  they 
aren't  going  round  like  little  wild  horses  when  it  comes 
to  asking  questions  about  love  and  death.  Xo,  ma'am!" 

"Oh!  \Yhat  does  old  Fowler  know  about  such 
tilings?"  cried  Tudith. 


218     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"That's  what  I  aim  to  find  out,"  replied  Doug. 

Twilight  was  up  on  the  valley,  though  Falkner's  Peak 
still  glowed  crimson  in  outline,  and  the  Forest  Reserve 
to  the  east  was  silver  blue,  shot  with  lines  of  flame.  The 
evening  star  trembled  above  Fire  Mesa.  Up  on  Dead 
Line  Peak  behind  them,  a  pack  of  coyotes  barked. 

"We  miss  you  down  at  the  house,"  said  Judith  sud 
denly. 

Douglas'  heart  suddenly  lifted.  There  was  a  sweet 
ness  in  Judith's  voice  that  he  never  before  had  heard  there. 

"I  miss  you,  Judith!  Every  moment  of  the  day  I'm 
missing  you.  The  ache  for  you  in  my  heart  is  as  much 
a  part  of  my  life  as  my  very  heart-throbs." 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't,  Douglas !  I  wish  you  wouldn't! 
I'm  not  ready  to  talk  of  those  things!" 

"What  do  you  mean,  Judith?" 

"I  mean  that  I  don't  see  love  as  you  see  it;  that  even 
if  I  did  care  for  any  one,  I'm  not  ready  to  give  way  to  it." 

She  paused  as  if  she  too  were  struggling  to  express 
the  inarticulate.  "O,  I  am  so  disappointed  in  life!  It 
isn't  at  all  what  I  thought  it  would  be !  People  aren't 
what  I  dreamed  they  were.  Everything  is  hard  and 
rough  and  difficult.  I  don't  like  life  a  bit!" 

"I  don't  like  it  as  it  is,  either,"  agreed  Douglas. 
"That's  why  I'm  trying  to  change  it,  here  in  Lost  Chief. 
But  I  wouldn't  change  my  love  for  you,  no  matter  how 
it  hurts.  That's  the  one  beautiful  thing  in  Lost  Chief 
and  in  me." 

He  turned  to  the  face,  so  dimly  rebellious,  so  vaguely 
sweet  in  the  dark,  and  his  whole  soul  was  in  his  steady 
deep  voice. 

"Judith,  won't  you  marry  me?  You  are  my  whole 
life!" 

Judith's  voice  rose  passionately.     "Don't  talk  about 


THE  LOG  CHAPEL  219 

it!  Don't!  I  don't  believe  in  marriage.  I  tell  you 
I  don't,  Douglas!" 

"Why  not?" 

"I've  told  you  again  and  again.  Marriage  is  too  hard 
on  a  woman.  Why  should  I  want  to  cook  your  meals  and 
darn  your  socks  and  wash  your  clothes  for  you  the  rest 
of  my  life?  Yes,  and  listen  to  you  swear  and  lay  down 
the  law  and  spit  tobacco  juice?  And  when  I'm  a  little 
older  and  beginning  to  get  knotty  with  the  hard  work, 
see  you  take  notice  of  girls  who  are  younger  and  prettier 
than  I.  No,  Doug!" 

"O,  love  isn't  like  that!"  exclaimed  Douglas  vehe 
mently. 

"My  love  won't  be  like  that,  I  can  tell  you!"  The 
excitement  still  was  evident  in  Judith's  voice.  "I'm  not 
going  to  kill  it,  by  marrying." 

"I  wish  that  Inez  were  dead  and  in  hell!"  cried  Doug 
las,  with  such  an  accumulation  of  bitterness  in  his  voice 
that  Judith  drew  a  quick  breath.  "And  I  wish  I  could 
quit  loving  you!  I  tried  my  best  to,  all  the  time  I  was 
at  Charleton's.  But  I  can't!  It  just  grows  as  I  grow 
and  every  day  it's  a  bigger  pain  and  trouble  to  me.  I 
wish  I  could  have  peace!" 

"I  wish  I  could  have  it  myself!"  ejaculated  the  girl. 
She  rose  suddenly.  "I'm  so  tired  of  this  burning  strug 
gle.  But  I  won't  settle  down  to  being  an  old  horse  on 
a  ranch.  I  will  do  something  that  gives  me  a  chance  to 
use  my  brain.  I  will!" 

She  leaped  into  the  saddle. 

Douglas  seized  the  mare's  bridle.  "Just  what  do  you 
mean  by  being  tired  of  a  burning  struggle?"  he  demanded 
tensely.  "Are  you  caring  for  somebody,  Jude?" 

"Let  me  go,  Douglas,"  said  Judith. 

For  a  moment,  the  two  stared  at  each  other  in  the  fad- 


220     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

ing  light,  then  Douglas  released  the  bridle  and  Judith 
galloped  away. 

He  stood  very  still  for  a  long  time,  gazing  down  the 
dim  line  of  the  trail.  How  lonely,  how  very  lonely  Jud 
ith  appeared  to  be!  How  lonely,  for  that  matter,  were 
most  people,  pondering  in  the  solitude  of  their  own  minds 
on  all  the  matters  of  life  that  really  counted.  And  how 
utterly  impossible  it  seemed  to  be  for  him  and  Judith 
to  cross  the  threshold  of  each  other's  reticences.  More 
difficult  perhaps  for  Judith  than  for  him.  That,  perhaps, 
was  because  she  did  not  love  him.  Or  perhaps,  because 
she  was  not  capable  of  feeling  sympathy  for  spiritual 
hunger.  But  he  put  aside  this  thought,  impatiently.  No 
one  could  have  lived  with  Judith  and  not  have  learned 
that  below  her  tempestuous  nature  must  be  deeps  greater 
than  even  she  herself  had  realized.  Why,  O  why,  could 
he  never  have  more  than  a  glimpse  of  those  deeps!  Evi 
dently  something  more  than  love  was  demanded  as  a 
password. 

He  had  been  able,  quickly  enough,  at  her  request  to 
formulate  his  own  demands  on  life.  What  were  Judith's 
demands  ?  Were  they  only  for  a  love  that  should  be  un 
hampered  by  the  ordinary  facts  of  life?  He  knew  that 
this  could  not  be  so.  Yet,  he  had  grown  up  with  Judith, 
had  asked  her  to  marry  him,  and  had  no  idea  of  what  her 
actual  mental  and  spiritual  needs  might  be.  Perhaps 
they  were  such  that  he  never  could  satisfy  them.  Perhaps 
Judith  recognized  this.  Of  course,  she  recognized  it! — 
as  a  bitter  memory  of  her  picture  of  marriage  in  Lost 
Chief  returned  to  him.  With  a  groan  he  bowed  his  head 
against  the  smooth  trunk  of  an  aspen.  How  utterly  in 
explicable  women  were!  How  bitter  and  how  beautiful 
was  this  scourging  fire,  called  love ! 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   FIRST   SERMON 

"I  ain't  able  to  think.    That's  why  I'm  pretty  gener 
ally  happy."  — Old  Johnny  Brown. 

BY  dawn  the  next  morning  Douglas  was  half-way  up 
the  trail  to  the  Pass.  He  did  not  know  at  what  hour 
the  preacher  would  arrive,  but  he  did  not  propose  that 
the  old  man  should  enter  Lost  Chief  without  his  protec 
tion.  When  he  reached  the  crest,  he  unsaddled  the  Moose 
and  settled  himself  against  a  gigantic  jade  rock  beside  the 
trail  and  prepared  to  wait  patiently. 

The  sun  lifted  slowly  over  the  unspeakable  glory  of  the 
ranges  and  poured  its  glory  down  upon  the  Pass,  then 
swung  westward,  leaving  a  chill  shadow  beside  the  rock 
where  Douglas  was  camping.  It  was  mid-afternoon 
when  the  stage  came  through  from  the  half-way  house. 
Old  Johnny  Brown  was  driving. 

As  he  pulled  up  the  horses  for  a  rest,  he  saw  Douglas 
and  smiled  delightedly. 

"Waiting  for  me,  Douglas?" 

Douglas  shook  his  head.  "I  came  up  to  meet  a  friend, 
Johnny." 

The  little  old  man  stared  at  Douglas;  then  he  said 
fretfully,  "I  don't  see  why  Grandma  Brown  had  to  go 
and  make  me  drive  the  gregus  old  stage  for  a  week.  I 
deponed  to  her  that  I  had  to  get  up  there  and  take  care 
of  you.  When  that  preacher  comes,  you'll  need  me, 
Doug.  There's  lots  of  trouble  brewing,  boy." 

221 


222     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"What  kind,  Johnny?" 

"They  always  shut  up  and  look  re  jus  when  I  come 
round.  But  I  know  enough  to  sabez  that  bunch  even  if 
I  am  a  half-wit." 

"I'm  not  so  sure  you  are  a  half-wit,  Johnny,"  said 
Douglas  sincerely. 

The  old  man's  face  brightened.  "That's  just  the  way 
I  feel  about  it  too,  Douglas.  You're  the  only  person  in 
the  Valley  understands  me.  You  could  have  my  shirt, 
Doug." 

Douglas  nodded.  "You  get  through  with  the  stage  as 
soon  as  you  can,  Johnny.  Tell  Grandma  I  expect  you 
on  Monday." 

Johnny  clucked  firmly  at  his  team.  "I'll  be  there. 
Nothing  can't  propone  me,"  and  he  was  gone  in  a  cloud 
of  dust. 

It  was  an  hour  later  that  the  preacher  rounded  the 
curve  to  the  crest.  Douglas  threw  the  saddle  on  the 
Moose  and  Fowler  pulled  up  his  bony  blue  roan  in  sur 
prise.  He  was  thinner  and  grayer  than  ever  and  his  blue 
jumper  was  patched  with  pieces  of  burlap.  But  his  eyes 
were  bright  as  he  shook  hands  with  Douglas. 

"I'm  the  Committee  on  Welcome !"  said  the  young  rider. 

"How  long  have  you  been  waiting  for  me,  Douglas?" 
asked  Fowler. 

"Since  daybreak.  I  couldn't  be  sure  when  you'd  come. 
And  I  didn't  want  you  to  come  into  Lost  Chief  alone." 

"Are  you  expecting  trouble  immediately?"  asked  the 
preacher. 

"Well,"  replied  Douglas  frankly,  "the  folks  are  just 
about  as  enthusiastic  as  if  I  were  bringing  a  Mormon  into 
the  Valley.  And  I  just  don't  aim  to  give  them  a  chance 
to  start  anything  till  we  get  a  little  bit  settled." 

The  old  man's  jaw  set,  under  his  beard.     "Humph! 


THE  FIRST  SERMON  223 

They'll  find  the  Lord  and  me  both  ready  for  them.  I 
have  an  idea  they  are  going  to  be  surprised  before  they 
are  through  with  this." 

Douglas  nodded  and  they  rode  down  into  the  Valley. 
When  they  trotted  past  the  post-office,  the  usual  group 
was  gathered  on  the  steps.  Doug  and  the  preacher 
nodded  but  did  not  draw  rein.  Old  Sister  came  out 
sedately  and  growled  at  Prince,  but  Peter  did  not  leave 
the  doorstep. 

"What's  your  hurry,  old-timers?"  shouted  Jimmy  Day. 

"A  long  way  to  go,"  called  Douglas. 

"Your  hazer  needs  a  shave!"  said  some  one  else. 

"We'll  do  it  for  him  Sunday!"  cried  another  voice. 

"Oil  up  your  cannon,  Doug,"  laughed  Charleton,  "and 
unchain  the  dogs  of  war." 

Douglas  trotted  sedately  on. 

"I  wonder  why  it  is!  I  wonder  why!"  said  Fowler, 
very  real  pain  in  his  voice. 

"They  think  we're  criticizing  them,"  answered  Doug 
las ;  adding,  with  his  pleasant  grin,  "which  we  are!" 

It  was  dark  when  they  reached  Douglas'  ranch.  Be 
fore  they  had  unsaddled,  Fowler  insisted  on  lighting  a 
lantern  and  inspecting  the  chapel.  Douglas,  not  at  all 
adverse,  for  he  was  very  proud  of  this  work  of  his 
hands,  followed  the  old  man  in  his  microscopic  inspection 
of  the  little  building.  It  was  small  and  dim,  with  a  smell 
of  new  cedar.  To  Douglas,  already  there  was  something 
hallowed  about  the  quiet  interior  as  if  somehow  the  yearn 
ing  with  which  he  had  builded  it  had  given  the  insensate 
wood  a  curious  high  purposefulness. 

Fowler  examined  the  benches  and  sat  for  a  moment 
on  several  of  them.  He  flashed  the  lantern  along  the 
carefully  chinked  walls,  the  rose  tints  of  the  cedar  glow 
ing  warmly  back  at  him.  He  walked  slowly  up  and 


224    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

down  the  center  aisle  and  paused  before  the  platform,  on 
which  was  a  table  and  chair.  For  a  long  time  he  stood 
with  one  hand  on  the  table.  Then  he  said : 

"It's  beautiful,  Douglas!  Beautiful!  A  chapel  for 
me!  Built  by  a  young  man  that  has  faith  in  me. 
Wonderful!  And  built  with  such  free-hearted  care! 
For  me  to  preach  in!  Why,  a  minister  of  a  great  me 
tropolis  might  well  envy  me  such  a  gift!" 

He  paused  again,  turning  the  lantern  so  that  the 
tapestried  colors  of  the  walls  again  flashed  forth. 

"Stained  glass!''  half  whispered  the  old  man. 
"Already  it  has  the  air  of  a  church.  Douglas,  we'll 
consecrate  it  now.'' 

He  knelt  before  the  platform  and  Douglas  bowed  his 
head. 

"O  God,  my  Father  and  my  Shepherd,"  said  Fowler, 
"You  have  led  my  wandering  steps  to  this  fragrant  evi 
dence  of  a  young  man's  heart.  How  beautiful  it  is, 
O  God,  and  how  holy,  You  know.  Help  me  to  keep 
it  so,  Heavenly  Father,  and  help  me  to  make  Lost  Chief 
find  it  so.  And,  O  God,  put  Your  great  arm  about  this 
young  man  and  keep  it  there  until  he  realizes  that  it  is 
Your  arm  supporting  him.  I  thank  You,  O  Everlast 
ing  Mercy,  for  leading  me  to  this  resting-place  for  my 
soul.  Amen." 

And  it  seemed  to  Douglas,  bowing  his  head  in  the 
dusk,  that  the  chapel  itself  was  listening  in  a  brooding 
peace. 

After  a  moment,  the  old  man  rose  and  led  the  way  out 
the  door,  which  Douglas  locked,  then  turned  the  key 
over  to  the  preacher. 

"It's  yours,  now,"  he  said  with  a  little,  embarrassed 
laugh.  "I'm  only  the  guard." 

Fowler  put  the  key  carefully  into  his  pocket.     "If 


THE  FIRST  SERMON  225 

anything  should  happen  to  that  chapel,  it  would  break 
my  heart,"  he  said. 

"We  mustn't  let  anything  happen  to  it.  That's  our 
job,"  returned  Douglas  stoutly. 

The  next  morning,  Saturday,  Douglas  left  the  preacher 
while  he  went  down  to  his  father's  place  for  his  day's 
work.  He  was  as  nervous  as  a  mother  with  her  first 
baby  all  day  and  he  galloped  the  Moose  back  up  the  trail 
long  before  sunset.  When  Mr.  Fowler  waved  at  him 
from  the  door  of  the  cabin,  he  gave  a  gusty  sigh  of 
relief. 

While  Doug  was  cooking  the  bacon  for  supper  he 
asked  the  preacher  what  was  to  be  the  subject  of  the 
morrow's  sermon. 

''I  was  going  to  preach  on  the  Golden  Rule,"  replied 
Mr.  Fowler. 

"No,"  said  Douglas  decidedly.  "You  give  'em  a  talk 
on  the  hereafter  and  why  you  think  there  is  one."  He 
lighted  a  cigarette  and  cut  more  bacon. 

"Young  man,  are  you  presuming  to  dictate  to  me  how 
to  preach  the  word  of  God?" 

"I  sure  am!"  grinning  with  the  cigarette  between  his 
white  teeth.  "I'm  in  this  thing  up  to  my  horns  and  I 
don't  aim  to  make  any  false  moves  that  I  can  help.  I've 
been  reading  the  New  Testament  this  summer.  So  far, 
the  most  I've  got  out  of  it  is  that  Christ  was  the  most 
diplomatic  preacher  that  ever  lived.  Let's  be  as  diplo 
matic  as  wre  can.  What's  the  use  of  preaching  slush 
to  a  lot  of  sensible,  hard-thinking  folks  who  don't  believe 
in  anything." 

The  preacher  bit  his  knuckles  and  took  a  turn  or  two 
up  and  down  the  cabin.  Douglas  noted  with  a  little 
sense  of  pity  the  extreme  thinness  of  the  rounded  shoul 
ders  under  the  denim  jumper.  Douglas  dished  the  bacon 


226     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

and  put  a  loaf  of  Mary's  bread  beside  the  fried  potatoes. 

"Show  us  that  our  souls  go  marching  on  like  old  John 
Brown's,"  said  the  young  man,  persuasively,  "and  you'll 
have  all  Lost  Chief  eating  out  of  your  hand." 

"You  talk  of  faith,"  cried  Fowler  impatiently,  "as  if  it 
were  a  problem  in  algebra." 

Douglas  hesitated.  "Maybe  I  do."  His  voice  sud 
denly  trembled. 

Fowler  paused  as  he  was  about  to  seat  himself  at 
the  table.  "I  hear  a  horse!"  he  said. 

Douglas  went  to  the  door. 

"It's  just  me!"  called  Grandma  Brown's  voice. 
"Come  and  help  me  down.  I  was  up  to  see  your  mother 
this  afternoon,"  she  went  on  as  Douglas  helped  her  dis 
mount,  "and  I  thought  I'd  come  along  up  and  have  a 
visit  with  the  preacher." 

"That's  fine !"  exclaimed  Douglas.  "Come  in,  Grand 
ma.  We're  just  drawing  up  to  the  table." 

"Good,"  sighed  the  old  lady;  "I'm  half  starved. 
Howdy,  Mr.  Fowler!  Haven't  had  enough  of  Lost 
Chief  yet,  huh?" 

The  preacher  rose  and  shook  hands.  "Not  yet,  Mrs. 
Brown!  Will  you  draw  up?" 

The  old  lady  plumped  down  at  the  table  and  Douglas 
loaded  her  plate  and  poured  her  a  cup  of  coffee.  "The 
older  folks,"  she  said  abruptly,  "won't  make  you  any 
trouble.  Charleton  Falkner  and  some  of  his  pals  will 
be  smarty,  but  the  young  fry  will  sure  try  to  break  up 
every  meeting  you  have." 

"The  modern  youngster  is  pretty  rough!"  sighed  the 
preacher. 

"Here  in  Lost  Chief,"  agreed  Grandma  promptly, 
"they  are  the  most  rough-and-tumble,  catch-as-catch-can 


THE  FIRST  SERMON  227 

batch  of  young  coyotes  that  ever  lived.  They  don't 
respect  God,  man,  nor  the  devil.  And  why  should  they? 
That's  educated  into  children,  not  born  into  them." 

"How  do  you  feel  about  my  coming  back,  Mrs. 
Brown?"  asked  Fowler. 

Grandma  hesitated;  then  she  said,  "I'm  too  old  to  be 
polite,  James  Fowler.  I'm  a  religious  woman,  myself, 
and  I've  often  said  we'd  ought  to  have  a  church  in  Lost 
Chief.  But  it  isn't  men  like  you  can  start  a  church  here. 
You  are  too  religious  and  too  goody-goody." 

The  preacher  winced.  Douglas  came  to  his  rescue. 
"We're  going  to  show  Lost  Chief  that  he's  not  goody- 
goody." 

Grandma  shook  her  head.  "I  wish  you  luck,  but, 
with  all  the  nerve  in  the  world,  you  can't  preach  to  them 
that  won't  hear." 

"Do  you  know  what  deviltry  they've  planned  for 
to-morrow?"  asked  Douglas. 

Grandma  shook  her  head.  "All  I  know  is,  Scott 
Parsons  is  the  leader.  He  sees  a  chance  to  get  back 
at  you." 

Douglas  finished  his  bacon  thoughtfully.  "All  right," 
he  said  finally;  "let  'em  come.  I'm  waiting.'' 

"Well,"  said  Grandma  briskly,  "I  didn't  come  up  here 
to  give  advice.  I  wanted  a  gossip  with  an  old-timer. 
Mr.  Fowler,  you  was  up  in  Mountain  City  when  that 
Black  Sioux  outbreak  took  place.  Did  you  know  Emmy 
Blake,  she  that  was  stolen  by  old  Red  Feather?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Fowler,  with  a  sudden  clearing  of  his 
somber  face.  "I  saw  her  when — "  and  he  plunged  into 
a  tale  that,  matched  by  one  from  Grandma,  consumed 
the  evening. 

At  nine  o'clock  the  old  lady  rose. 


228    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"I'll  ride  down  the  trail  with  you,"  said  Douglas. 

"You  fool!"  sniffed  the  old  lady.  "Since  when  have 
folks  begun  nursing  me  over  these  trails?" 

"That's  not  the  point,"  returned  Doug.  "I  want  to 
see  Peter." 

"Well,  come  along,  then,"  conceded  Grandma.  She 
pulled  on  her  mackinaw  and  buttoned  it.  The  nights 
were  very  cold. 

The  next  morning,  a  placard  on  the  post-office  door 
announced  to  Lost  Chief  that  a  meeting  would  be  held 
in  the  log  chapel  on  Sunday  at  two  o'clock;  and  by  that 
hour  every  soul  in  Lost  Chief  capable  of  moving  was 
packed  into  the  little  cabin. 

After  his  talk  with  Peter,  Douglas  had  changed  his 
program.  The  postmaster,  not  the  preacher,  sat  at  the 
table.  He  wore  a  black  coat  over  a  blue  flannel  shirt,  a 
coat  that  Lost  Chief  never  saw  except  at  funerals  or 
weddings.  His  denim  pants  were  turned  up  with  a 
deep  cuff  over  his  riding-boots.  The  preacher  sat  on 
a  chair,  just  below  the  platform.  Douglas  occupied  a 
rear  pew  where  he  could  keep  an  eye  on  Scott  Parsons. 
There  was  very  little  talking  among  the  members  of  the 
congregation,  but  much  spitting  of  tobacco  juice  into 
the  red-hot  stove. 

Promptly  at  two  o'clock,  Peter  rose  and  cleared  his 
throat.  "Well,  folks,  Douglas  says  he's  trying  to  put 
into  practice  some  of  the  stuff  I've  been  preaching  to 
him.  So  I  suppose  I'm  to  blame  for  this  meeting.  Now, 
there  isn't  anybody  can  accuse  me  of  being  religious." 

"A  fourth-class  postmaster  couldn't  be  religious," 
remarked  Charleton  Falkner. 

"They  always  go  crazy  about  the  second  year  of 
office,"  volunteered  John  Spencer. 

Everybody  laughed,  even  Peter.     Then  he  went  on: 


THE  FIRST  SERMON  229 

"So  when  I  say  I'm  going  to  back  Doug  up  in  this  experi 
ment  you  none  of  you  can  say  it's  because  I'm  pious. 
It's  because  I  think  Lost  Chief  ought  to  have  a  church 
to  help  the  young  people  decide  the  right  and  wrong  of 
things." 

"How  come,  Peter?"  demanded  Jimmy  Day.  "Ain't 
the  young  folks  round  here  pleasing  to  your  bachelor 
eye?" 

"To  my  eye,  yes!"  answered  the  postmaster.  "Best- 
looking  crowd  I  ever  saw.  But  to  my  mind,  no!  And 
there  isn't  one  af  you  over  fifteen  who  doesn't  know 
what  I  mean  when  I  say  it.  Now,  Doug's  idea  seems 
sensible  enough  to.  me.  He  says  he'd  be  happier  if  he 
could  believe  in  a  life  after  death.  He  says  if  any 
preacher  can  prove  to  him  that  the  soul  is  immortal,  he 
is  willing  to  play  the  game  so  as  to  win  that  future  if 
it  is  proved"  that  you  have  to  follow  rules  to  win  it. 
Folks,  if  there  is  anything  sissy  about  that,  I'd  like  to 
have  one  of  you  rear  up  and  say  so." 

"There  isn't  a  preacher  in  the  world  can  prove  that," 
said  Mrs.  Falkner.  "If  there  was,  he'd  be  greater  than 
Christ." 

"Didn't  Christ  prove  it?"  cried  Mr.  Fowler  quickly. 

"No!"  replied  Mrs.  Falkner.  "He  believed  it  Him 
self  and  He  lived  like  He  believed  it,  but  He  didn't  prove 
it." 

Fowler  jumped  to  his  feet.  "He  proved  it  over  and 
over;  by  fulfilling  the  prophecies,  by  the  miracles  He 
performed  and  by  returning  after  death." 

"How  do  you  know  He  returned  after  death?"  asked 
Mrs.  Falkner. 

"The  Bible  says  so." 

"Nonsense!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Falkner.  "The  Bible  is 
just  history,  most  of  it  hearsay.  And  I  read  in  the 


230     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Atlantic,  the  other  day  that  Napoleon  said  that  history 
was  just  a  lie  agreed  upon." 

"This  is  blasphemy!"  shouted  Mr.  Fowler.  "This 
is—" 

"Wait!"  Peter  interrupted  with  a  firm  hand.  "Every 
one  is  to  say  what  they  decently  please.  You'll  never 
get  anywhere  in  this  valley,  if  you  show  yourself 
shocked  by  anything  anybody  says." 

"I  don't  want  to  shock  the  preacher,  Peter," — Mrs. 
Falkner's  beautiful  face  was  wistful — "I'd  like  to  have 
his  faith.  I  sure-gawd  would!  But  I  just  want  to 
make  him  see  that  to  folks  like  us  in  Lost  Chief  who 
read  and  think  and  look  at  these  hills  a  lot,  the  Bible 
never  could  prove  a  hereafter  to  us." 

"But  the  Bible  is  the  inspired  word  of  God,"  insisted 
Fowler. 

"Who  says  so?"  asked  Mrs.  Falkner. 

"The  Bible." 

"Good  heavens,  isn't  that  childish?"  she  appealed  to 
the  congregation.  "Seems  to  me  only  God  could  prove 
that  and  we  don't  even  know  He  exists." 

There  was  silence  in  the  room.  Douglas,  looking  over 
the  backs  of  many  familiar  heads,  felt  a  curious  yearn 
ing  affection  for  these  neighbors  who  so  far  had  met  his 
experiment  so  kindly.  Then  his  eyes  turned  to  the 
aspens  without  the  window  and  beyond  these  to  the  far 
red  clouds  over  Fire  Mesa.  The  first  snow  of  the  sea 
son  was  beginning  to  sift  through  the  trees.  He  wished 
that  he  had  the  courage  to  ask  Mrs.  Falkner  what  she 
thought  of  Inez'  poem : 

A  fire  mist  and  a  planet, 
A  crystal  and  a  cell — 

but  he  would  rather  have  cut  out  his  tongue  than  repeat 
the  verse  before  this  audience. 


THE  FIRST  SERMON  231 

Mr.  Fowier  was  running  his  fingers  through  his  beard, 
glancing  hesitatingly  from  Douglas  to  Peter. 

"Well,  is  it  the  sense  of  this  meeting,"  asked  the  post 
master,  "to  let  the  preacher  tell  us  how  he  feels  about 
it?" 

"Go  to  it,  old  wrangler,"  said  Charleton.  "I  can 
spout  the  Persian  Poet  to  'em  if  you  run  short  of  Bible 
stuff." 

"Baa — a — a!"  bleated  a  small  boy  in  the  back  of  the 
room. 

"I'm  going  to  give  the  first  young  one  that  makes  a 
disturbance  a  dose  of  aspen  switch,"  said  Grandma 
Brown. 

There  was  a  general  chuckle  that  quieted  as  Mr.  Fowler 
began  to  speak. 

"Religion  doesn't  rest  on  proof.  It  rests  on  Faith. 
And  faith  is  something  every  human  being  possesses. 
If  you  plant  a  seed,  you  have  faith  that  it  will  produce 
a  plant.  No  power  of  yours  can  bring  the  plant.  But 
you  have  faith — in  what? — that  the  plant  will  appear. 
Every  night  that  you  go  to  bed  you  believe  that  a  new 
day  will  come.  You  cannot  bring  that  day  but  you 
have  absolute  faith  that  to-morrow  will  be  brought  by — • 
what  ?  The  stars  come  nightly  to  the  sky,  the  moon  and 
the  earth  whirl  in  their  appointed  places.  You  have 
absolute  confidence  that  they  will  continue  to  float  in 
the  heavens.  On  what  do  you  place  that  confidence? 

"Friends,  I  cannot  prove  to  you  that  there  is  a  God. 
But  if  you  will  be  patient  with  me,  I  will  give  you  a  faith 
that  asks  no  proof."  He  opened  his  Bible  and  began 
to  read. 

"And  Jesus  said  unto  them,  I  am  the  bread  of  life;  he  that 
cometh  to  me  shall  never  hunger  and  he  that  believeth  in  me 
shall  never  thirst.  . 


232     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"If  any  'man  thirst,  let  him  come  unto  me  and  drink.  He  that 
believeth  in  me,  out  of  his  belly  shall  flow  rivers  of  living  water.  .  .  . 

"He  that  believeth  in  me,  believeth  not  in  me  but  in  Him  that  sent 
me.  And  he  that  seeth  me,  seeth  Him  that  sent  me.  I  come  a 
light  unto  the  world,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  me  should  not 
abide  in  darkness. 

"I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life :  he  that  believeth  in  me  though 
he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live :  and  whosoever  liveth  and  believeth 
in  me  shall  never  die." 

Mr.  Fowler  paused  and  closed  the  book. 

"Words!"  said  Charleton.     "Just  poetry!" 

"You  are  speaking  of  the  living  words  of  the  Al 
mighty!"  shouted  the  preacher.  "You — "  But  he  was 
interrupted.  There  was  a  sudden  unearthly  uproar  of 
dogs  without.  The  door  burst  open  and  old  Sister, 
howling  at  the  top  of  her  lungs,  bolted  straight  up  the 
aisle  to  Peter.  A  can  was  tied  to  her  tail.  Prince, 
similarly  adorned,  and  ably  seconding  his  old  friend's 
outcry,  followed  her.  Several  cats,  all  dragging  tin  cans, 
were  flung  spitting  and  yowling  through  a  window. 

Chaos  reigned.  Douglas  seized  Prince.  Peter  grab 
bed  Sister.  A  dozen  people  took  after  the  cats.  They 
were  not  as  easy  to  capture  as  the  dogs ;  and  during  the 
progress  of  the  chase,  a  sudden  noxious  odor  filled  the 
room.  Douglas  saw  a  thick  black  vapor  rising  from  a 
bubbling  mess  on  the  top  of  the  stove.  The  congrega 
tion  bolted,  leaving  the  field  to  one  lone  cat  who  climbed 
the  wall  to  the  window  and  disappeared  with  a  final 
yowl. 

There  was  no  attempt  to  bring  the  audience  back,  and 
shortly  the  trail  was  dotted  with  riders.  But  that  even 
ing  as  he  sat  alone  with  Douglas,  the  preacher  was  not 
at  all  sad. 

"You  were  right,"  he  said  to  the  young  man,  "in 
having  Peter  open  the  meeting.  The  older  people  were 


THE  FIRST  SERMON  233 

interested.  No  doubt  they  were  interested;  and  in  spite 
of  the  mischief  that  broke  us  up,  I  feel  as  if  a  start  had 
been  made.  It's  a  rarely  intelligent  group  of  people.  I 
admit  that." 

Douglas  nodded.  "We'll  wear  'em  down.  See  if  we 
don't.  The  kids  certainly  put  it  over  on  me.  I  was  feel 
ing  safe  as  long  as  I  could  watch  Scott  and  Jimmy,  and 
they  had  Grandma  Brown's  grandson  doing  the  work  for 
them."  He  chuckled  and  shook  his  head.  "I  just  can't 
head  them  off  on  that  kind  of  work.  All  we  can  do, 
as  I  say,  is  to  wear  them  down.  And  maybe  we  can 
win  Judith  and  one  or  two  of  the  others,  right 
soon." 

Mr.  Fowler  sighed.  "We  can  certainly  interest  some 
of  the  older  people  for  a  while  with  a  discussion  like 
we  had  this  afternoon.  But  not  the  young  people. 
Beauty  and  emotion  and  mystery  must  make  the  religious 
appeal  to  young  folks.  A  church  can't  exist  as  a  debat 
ing  society." 

Douglas  turned  this  over  in  his  mind,  finally  focus 
sing  his  thoughts  on  Inez;  she  who  lored  beauty  and 
dragged  her  emotions  in  the  mire. 

"Mr.  Fowler,"  he  said  finally,  "I'll  bet  Inez  would  have 
been  a  very  religious  person  if  she'd  been  started  with 
the  beauty  and  emotion  and  mystery!" 

"That's  a  queer  thing  to  say!"  The  preacher's  voice 
was  a  little  resentful. 

Douglas  went  on  as  if  he  had  not  heard.  "But  you 
can't  get  Judith  that  way.  She  hasn't  any  emotions 
except  temper  and  a  sense  of  humor!" 

"There  isn't  a  woman  born  who  isn't  full  of  emotion," 
said  Mr.  Fowler,  dryly.  "And  the  deeper  they  conceal 
it,  the  more  they  have.  I  think  I'll  go  to  bed,  Douglas. 
I  feel  as  if  I'd  come  through  a  hard  day." 


234    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"Same  here,"  agreed  Douglas,  and  shortly  the  cabin 
was  in  darkness. 

For  a  day  or  so  the  preacher  stayed  quietly  in  and 
about  the  cabin.  He  swept  the  chapel  and  cleaned  out 
the  stove  and  polished  the  windows  and  each  day  made 
a  little  fire.  Douglas  frequently  found  him  there  at 
night,  on  his  knees.  At  least  once  a  day  he  said,  "It 
was  a  wonderful  thing,  Doug,  for  a  young  man  like  you 
to  build  me  this  little  chapel,  in  my  old  age."  He  insis 
ted  on  grace  before  meals  and  a  chapter  aloud  from  the 
Bible  before  bed.  Douglas  was  embarrassed  but  entire 
ly  acquiescent.  Mr.  Fowler  was  to  have  a  free  hand  with 
his  spiritual  development. 

About  the  middle  of  the  week,  Judith  rode  down  to 
the  post-office  with  Douglas.  "Well,  how's  the  sky  pilot 
and  his  disciple?"  she  asked. 

"I  believe  the  old  boy  is  almost  happy,"  replied  Doug 
las.  "He  thinks  that  little  old  church  I  built  is  pretty 
fine." 

"Inez  says   it  looks  like  a  big  cow  stable." 

"That's  nice  of  Inez.  Why  didn't  she  tell  me  how  to 
make  it  better  looking?" 

"What  does  Inez  care  about  it?  Honest,  Doug,  you 
are  making  an  awful  fool  of  yourself.  A  man  like 
Fowler  can't  preach  to  us." 

"Why,  he  never  had  a  chance  to  preach  here  yet!"  ex 
claimed  Douglas.  "And,  what  do  you  expect  in  a  place 
like  Lost  Chief,  a  ten-thousand-dollar-a-year  sky  pilot? 
Besides,  I  don't  want  preaching  from  him.  I  want  just 
the  one  thing  like  Peter  said.  And  Fowler  has  that  in 
him  just  as  strong  as  the  highest  paid  preacher  in  the 
world.  Give  him  a  show,  Judith.  Come  up,  every 
Sunday.  You  might  back  me  that  much." 

"And  have  everybody  in  the  crowd  laughing  at  me 


THE  FIRST  SERMON  235 

like  they  are  at  you?  I  won't  do  anything  against  the 
old  man,  Douglas,  for  your  sake.  But  that's  all  I'll 
promise." 

"I'm  not  going  to  let  you  off  that  easy,  Jude.  Come 
up  to  supper  to-night.  I  won't  let  him  talk  religion. 
Honest,  he's  as  interesting  as  a  book  when  he  gets  to 
telling  some  of  his  experiences." 

Judith  shook  her  head.  "I'd  rather  stay  at  home  with 
Tendennis.'  " 

"If  I  get  Inez  to  come,  will  you?"  urged  Douglas. 

Judith  grinned  impishly.     "Yes,  I'd  come  with  Inez." 

They  returned  from  the  post-office  via  the  west  trail 
and  stopped  at  Inez'  place.  She  was  eating  a  belated 
dinner  in  her  slatternly  kitchen,  and  waved  a  hospitable 
hand  over  the  table. 

"Thanks,  no,"  said  Doug.  "I  just  stopped  by  to  see 
if  you  and  Judith  wouldn't  come  up  and  have  supper 
with  the  sky  pilot  and  me.  I  won't  let  him  talk  religion 
and  he's  got  some  good  stories  to  tell." 

Inez  looked  Douglas  over.  He  and  the  tall  Judith 
seemed  to  fill  the  kitchen.  Doug  finally  had  covered  his 
big  frame  with  muscles  and  he  was  a  larger  and  hand 
somer  man  than  his  father. 

"Doug,"  said  Inez,  "I  am  truly  flattered.  What  are 
you  trying  to  do?  Convert  me?" 

Douglas  answered  with  simple  sincerity.  "I  don't 
care  a  hang  whether  you  get  converted  or  not." 

"O  you  don't!  Well,  just  to  spite  you,  I'll  come  and 
let  the  old  fellow  try  his  hand!" 

"Not  really,  Inez?"  gasped  Judith. 

"I'd  do  more  than  that  for  Doug  and  for  Lost  Chief," 
said  Inez  soberly.  "Doug  isn't  the  only  person  who  loves 
this  old  hole  in  the  hills." 

Judith  turned  to  Douglas  with  a  sudden  wist  fulness 


236  JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

in  her  eyes,  a  sudden  flare  of  a  fire  he  had  not  seen  in 
them  before.  He  waited  for  her  to  speak  but  she  only 
turned  away  toward  the  door. 

"I'll  look  for  you  about  six  then,  Inez,"  he  said,  and 
he  followed  Judith. 

When  the  girls  appeared  at  the  cabin  that  evening,  the 
table  was  set  and  the  steak  was  frying.  Inez  and  Jud 
ith  winked  at  each  other  when  Mr.  Fowler  said  grace 
but  otherwise  the  meal  progressed  decorously  enough. 
It  was  Inez  who  brought  up  the  tabooed  subject.  They 
had  been  sitting  round  the  stove  listening  to  a  tale  of 
old  lynch  law  which  the  preacher  told  with  real  skill, 
when  Inez  interrupted  him  with  entire  irrelevance. 

"Mr.  Fowler,  do  you  really  believe  there  is  such  a 
thing  as  right  and  wrong?" 

The  preacher  paused,  studying  Inez'  face.  Her  dark 
eyes  were  steady  and  thoughtful.  Her  mouth,  except 
for  the  slightly  heavy  lower  lip,  was  sensitive.  Her 
whole  expression  was  one  of  pride  and  independence. 

"Yes,  I  believe  in  right  and  wrong,"  replied  Mr. 
Fowler,  deliberately. 

"What  makes  you  believe  that  a  man  who  lived  nearly 
two  thousand  years  ago  can  decide  what  is  right  or 
wrong  for  Lost  Chief?"  she  asked. 

"The  Bible,"  answered  the  preacher. 

"But  the  Bible  is  full  of  things  that  I  would  call 
crooked.  Those  prophets  were  always  putting  slick 
tricks  over  on  each  other  and  the  people.  There  was  a 
lot  of  dirty  work  done  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  by  those 
ancient  Jews." 

The  preacher  leaned  toward  the  woman.  "Do  you 
believe  in  right  and  wrong,  Inez  Rodman?" 

"No,  I  don't.  I  believe  in  kindness  and  in  beauty. 
That's  all." 


THE  FIRST  SERMON  237 

"How  does  one  believe  in  beauty?"  asked  Mr.  Fowler. 

"I  mean,"  she  replied,  "that  if  you  fill  your  mind  with 
the  beauty  of  this  Lost  Chief  country  and  with  poetry, 
there  is  no  room  for  anything  ugly." 

"What  would  you  call  ugly?" 

"Being  mean  to  other  people  is  one  kind  of  ugliness." 

"That's   what   I   believe  too,"   said  Judith   suddenly. 

"Then,  of  course,  neither  of  you  two  would  have  any 
thing  to  do  with  the  attempt  to  run  the  preacher  out," 
suggested  Douglas. 

"No,  I  wouldn't,"  replied  Inez ;  "and  I  told  Scott  so. 
That  doesn't  mean  that  I  don't  consider  you  plumb  loco, 
Doug.  Mr.  Fowler  isn't  the  kind  to  make  the  folks 
see  the  beauty  of  these  hills.  If  he  was  I'd  be  helping 
instead  of  indifferent." 

"If  the  folks  would  let  God  enter  their  hearts,"  cried 
the  preacher,  "they'd  see  beauty  in  these  hills  they  never 
dreamed  of." 

"Well,  as  far  as  beauty  goes,  Inez,"  Douglas  spoke 
thoughtfully,  "you  can't  say  there  isn't  considerable  of 
that  in  the  Bible.  Take  the  Songs  of  Solomon.  There 
never  was  finer  love-making  than  that !" 

"The  Songs  of  Solomon  don't  deal  with  human  pas 
sion,"  said  Mr.  Fowler  hastily.  "They  are  a  recital  of 
man's  love  for  the  Almighty  and  His  works." 

"O,  no,  Mr.  Fowler!"  cried  Doug.  "'Behold  thou 
art  fair,  my  loved  one,  behold  thou  art  fair.  Thou  hast 
doves  eyes  within  thy  locks.'  No  man  ever  said  that  about 
anything  but  a  woman." 

No  one  spoke  for  a  moment.  Old  Prince,  who  was 
lying  with  his  head  baking  under  the  stove,  growled  and 
barked,  then  made  for  the  door.  Wolf  Cub  barked  with 
out,  and  a  dog  answered. 

"Sister!"  exclaimed  Inez.     "Peter  must  be  coming." 


238     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Douglas  opened  the  door  and  Prince  shot  out.  Shortly 
Peter,  then  Charleton,  came  in,  stamping  the  snow  from 
their  spurs  and  pulling  off  their  gauntlets. 

"Where  did  you  two  come  from?"  asked  Judith,  as 
the  newcomers  established  themselves  on  up-ended  boxes 
close  to  the  stove. 

"Just  met  here,"  replied  Peter.  "I  had  supper  at 
Spencer's  and  came  up  to  argue  with  the  sky  pilot." 

"I'm  setting  traps  up  on  Lost  Chief,"  said  Charleton, 
lighting  a  cigarette. 

"Look  out  you  don't  mistake  any  of  Scott's  traps  for 
yours,"  suggested  Inez. 

Everybody  chuckled,  and  Peter  said,  "Elijah  Nelson 
was  down  at  my  place  yesterday.  He's  a  pleasant,  easy 
spoken  man.  I  guess  he  and  Scott  have  been  having  a  lot 
of  quiet  fighting  up  there  we  haven't  heard  about." 

"Is  that  what  he  came  to  see  you  about?"  asked  Doug. 

"No.  It  seems  his  trail  out  to  the  Mountain  City 
road  is  snowed  up.  He  wants  to  get  his  mail  over  here 
if  Scott  will  let  him  use  his  trail.  He  wants  me  to 
speak  to  Scott  about  it." 

"What  Scott  will  claim,"  Charleton  smiled,  "is  that 
he  positively  must  have  a  retired  location  and  complete 
privacy  on  his  trail." 

There  was  another  chuckle,  during  which  the  preacher 
looked  from  one  keen  face  to  another,  but  he  did  not 
speak. 

"What  has  the  scrapping  been  about,  Peter?"  asked 
Inez. 

Douglas  turned  quietly  to  look  at  her.  It  suddenly 
occurred  to  him  that  Inez  used  Peter's  name  with  a 
cadence  that  was  new  to  him.  He  saw  that  she  was 
watching  Peter's  thin  sallow  face  with  a  shadow  of 
strain  about  her  eyes. 


THE  FIRST  SERMON  239 

"O  it's  about  a  bull  again,"  laughed  Peter.  "It  seems 
that  Scott  has  an  old  red  bull  that  Nelson  says  is  one 
of  his,  rebranded." 

"But  I  thought,"  began  Judith;  then  she  caught 
Charleton's  sardonic  eye  and  subsided. 

"What  did  you  think,  Judith?"  asked  Peter. 

"Nothing.     Go   on   with   your   story." 

"There  is  no  story  to  it.  Scott's  been  keeping  a  six- 
shooter  guard  on  the  upper  springs  of  Lost  Chief,  so's 
old  Nelson  hasn't  had  but  half  his  usual  allowance  of 
water  for  his  ditches.  He  is  sorer  about  that  than  he 
is  over  the  bull,  though  he  certainly  is  determined  to  get 
the  critter  back.  But  he  got  small  comfort  out  of  me. 
I  told  him  to  keep  his  plural  fingers  off  of  Lost  Chief 
Creek,  or  he  would  lose  more  than  an  old  red  bull." 

"Right-o!"  grunted  Charleton. 

"Are  you  going  to  ask  Scott  to  let  Nelson  use  his  trail, 
Peter?"  asked  Inez. 

"Sure!     Why  not?"  laughed  Peter. 

"You  will  make  Scott  sore  at  you,"  replied  Inez.  "I 
haven't  any  quarrel  with  Scott  myself,  but  I  know  he 
has  a  mean  streak  in  him.  If  he  thinks  you  are  in 
cahoots  with  Nelson  he  will  make  you  trouble." 

"I'm  not  afraid  of  Scott,"  said  Peter. 

"Well,  you'll  need  to  be  if  you  mix  up  in  his  affairs. 
He  holds  grudges  over  nothing." 

"Awful  bad  man,  Scott!"  Douglas  spoke  with  his 
quiet  smile. 

"I'm  telling  you  he  is!"  insisted  Inez.  "He's  been 
more  than  half  in  love  with  Judith  for  years  and  he'd 
just  as  soon  double-cross  Jude  as  anybody  else.  I 
want  you  to  let  him  alone,  please,  Peter." 

Peter  was  watching  Judith.  Only  Douglas  seemed 
aware  of  the  concentrated  entreaty  in  Inez'  voice.  "Poor 


240     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Inez,"  he  thought,  "if  she's  caring  for  Peter,  she'll  be 
having  her  own  little  double  Hades  for  everything  she's 
done."  He  looked  at  Peter.  Judith  was  staring  thought 
fully  at  the  stove  and  the  postmaster's  deep  eyes  were 
fastened  on  the  girl's  fine,  clean-cut  features,  with  a 
burning  fire  that  suddenly  brought  Doug's  heart  to  his 
throat. 

"What's  your  opinion  of  Scott,  Judith?"  asked  Peter. 

"The  same  as  Inez'.  But  I  can't  help  liking  him. 
He's  done  me  lots  of  favors  and  he's  kept  me  from 
making  a  fool  of  myself  a  number  of  times,  even  if  he 
did  double-cross  me  once.  And  he  admires  me.  He 
certainly  does!"  She  laughed  with  girlish  naivete  and 
the  others  joined  her. 

"Then  you  must  like  me  too!"   said  Peter. 

"You  are  a  nice  old  gentleman,"  retorted  Judith. 

Peter's  lips  closed  grimly. 

The  preacher  spoke  with  sudden  vehemence.  "Yet 
you  people  are  allowing  this  same  Scott  to  try  to  destroy 
Douglas'  dream  for  Lost  Chief." 

"I  say  Scott  is  a  valuable  citizen,"  drawled  Charleton. 
"He  guards  us  from  Mormons,  from  Christians,  and 
from  wild  women." 

Douglas  did  not  join  in  the  laugh  that  greeted  this 
sally.  An  entirely  new  fear  had  come  upon  him.  He 
bit  his  lip  and  stared  from  Judith  to  Peter  and  back 
again. 

Inez  rose  suddenly.  "Well,  the  moon  is  up.  Come, 
Judith!  It's  time  for  wild  women  to  retire  to  their 
caves." 

Judith  gave  a  gigantic  yawn,  stretched  her  beautiful 
long  body  till  the  tips  of  her  fingers  almost  touched  the 
low  rafters,  and  said,  "It's  a  good  thing  Charleton  and 


THE  FIRST  SERMON  241 

Peter  will  be  going  along  to  protect  us  from  Scott,  the 
bad  man." 

The  four  presently  jingled  off  down  the  snowy  trail. 
Prince  took  up  his  shivering  night-watch  on  the  steps. 
Douglas  and  Mr.  Fowler  looked  at  each  other  soberly 
and  went  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

PRINCE   GOES    MARCHING   ON 

"A  wise  dog  won't  tackle  a  trapped  wolverine." 

— Old  Prince. 

*  I  ''HE  next  morning  Johnny  Brown  trotted  up  on  his 
•*•  old  cow-pony.  The  preacher  and  Douglas  were  at 
breakfast.  All  the  world  was  bristling  with  frost  and 
a  million  opalescent  lights  danced  on  every  snowdrift. 
Douglas  swung  the  door  open. 

"Well,  Johnny,  did  you  finally  break  away  from  every 
body?" 

The  little  old  man  slid  briskly  from  the  saddle,  brushed 
the  icicles  from  his  beard,  and  grinned  broadly. 

"Even  Inez,  she  tried  to  stop  me.  Says  some  one 
has  got  to  get  her  some  cedar  wood  for  her  heater  stove. 
'You  get  you  some  squaw-wood,  Inez,'  I  deponed.  'Them 
that  can't  make  the  men  chop  regular  wood  for  'em, 
don't  deserve  nothing  better  than  brittle  stuff  like  alder. 
Get  you  some  squaw-wood,  Inez,'  I  deponed.  Douglas, 
they  are  plumb  jealous  of  you.  Since  you  seen  there 
was  something  to  me  beside  a  old  half-wit,  they've  all 
been  horning  round,  jealous  like,  to  get  me." 

Douglas,  his  yellow  hair  a  glory  in  the  rising  sun, 
nodded  seriously. 

"Look  to  your  saddle,  Johnny,  then  come  in  to  break 
fast.  I've  got  a  few  steers  I  want  to  dehorn  to-day,  so 
you're  just  in  time." 

The  preacher  was  still  at  breakfast  when  old  Johnny 
eame  in.  The  two  old  men  stared  at  each  other  with 
unmixed  interest.  Douglas  stood  with  his  back  to  the 

242 


PRINCE  GOES  MARCHING  ON        243 

stove,  a  cigarette  drooping  from  his  lips,  a  remote 
twinkle  in  his  eyes. 

Johnny  lushed  down  his  second  saucer  of  coffee  before 
he  attempted  to  marshall  his  thoughts  into  speech.  But, 
having  accomplished  this,  he  said,  "Doug  and  me  are 
gregus  great  friends,  Mr.  Fowler.  There  ain't  anybody 
in  Lost  Chief  thinks  as  much  of  him  as  I  do." 

The  preacher  nodded.  "Douglas  says  he's  fond  of 
you." 

"I  guess  he  is,"  returned  Johnny,  condescendingly. 
"I  guess  if  the  truth  be  deponed  he's  fonder  of  me  than 
he  is  of  anybody — excepting  maybe  Judith.  And  Ju 
dith,  she  sure-gawd  don't  apregate  Doug  like  I  do,  even 
if  I  am  a  half-wit.  Judith's  awful  smart  but  she  ain't 
got  much  sense." 

"Judith  is  pretty  fine,  Johnny !"  exclaimed  Douglas, 
with  the  faint  glow  in  his  blue  eyes  that  mention  of  her 
name  always  brought. 

"Yes,  she  is,"  agreed  Johnny.  "But  she's  just  like 
her  mother  was.  All  fire.  And  you  can  squench  fire 
so  it's  just  ashes.  It  would  be  a  gregus  good  thing  for 
the  Valley  if  John  Spencer  was  to  break  his  neck." 

"Don't  say  that,  Johnny!''  protested  the  preacher. 
"After  all,  he's  one  of  God's  creatures." 

Johnny  chuckled.     "Now,  who  is  half-witted,  huh?" 

"Young  Jeff  back  on  the  mail  route,  Johnny?"  asked 
Douglas  hastily. 

"Yes.     Peter   Knight,   he's    awful    fond   of   Judith." 

Douglas  looked  at  Johnny  keenly,  his  jaw  setting  as  he 
did  so.  Was  there,  he  thought,  something  obvious  here,  or 
was  it  only  the  half-wit's  curiously  sharp  but  confused 
intuition  at  work?  At  any  rate,  he  must  know  the 
truth.  He  could  not  endure  this  added  uneasiness. 

"On  second  thoughts,"  he  said  aloud,  "I  think  I'll  not 


244     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

dehorn  to-day.  I  want  to  get  an  order  off  for  a  new 
saddle  on  to-day's  mail  stage.  Johnny,  one  of  your  main 
jobs  is  to  guard  the  sky  pilot  and  the  chapel,  when  I'm 
not  here.  You're  not  to  let  anything  happen  to  either 
of  them." 

"Shall  I  shoot  on,  sight?"  demanded  the  little  old  man. 

Mr.  Fowler  smiled.  Douglas  shook  his  head.  "No; 
let's  not  get  into  that  kind  of  trouble.  You  don't  carry 
a  gun  anyhow,  do  you?" 

"No,"  plaintively.  "Grandma  won't  let  me.  But  I 
thought  you'd  loan  me  something." 

"I  haven't  got  anything  but  my  old  six-shooter,  which 
I  can't  spare.  Listen,  Johnny !  When  you  think  some 
body  needs  to  be  shot,  you  come  to  me  and  tell  me  about 
it,  see?  You  know  I  know  you  have  a  lot  more  self- 
control  than  these  Lost  Chief  folks  think  you  have. 
You  aren't  one  of  these  guys  that  shoots  first  and  thinks 
afterward." 

Johnny  turned  to  the  preacher  triumphantly.  "Didn't 
I  tell  you  he  was  my  friend  ?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Fowler,  "and  he's  mine  too,  and 
you  and  I  must  take  care  of  him.  Lost  Chief  needs 
him." 

Old  Johnny  rose  and  solemnly  offered  a  gnarled  hand 
to  the  preacher.  Douglas  laughed  in  an  embarrassed 
way  and  went  out  to  the  corral,  to  saddle  the  Moose. 

Judith  was  feeding  the  chickens  as  he  trotted  past  the 
Spencer  place.  He  waved  his  hand  but  would  not  permit 
himself  to  stop.  He  found  Peter  alone  in  his  room, 
mending  a  belt. 

"Well,  Doug,"  he  said,  "how  does  the  reform  move 
ment  progress?" 

"We  added  Johnny  Brown  to  our  side  this  morning," 
replied  Douglas.  "Some  line-up,  I'd  say!" 


245 

"Old  Johnny  is  certainly  your  man,"  Peter  chuckled. 
"How  do  he  and  the  sky  pilot  hit  it  off?" 

"It's  too  early  to  say.  By  the  way,  did  you  have  a 
run-in  with  Scott?" 

"Not  at  all.  Scott  said  Elijah  was  welcome  to  use 
the  trail  if  he  kept  to  it." 

Doug's  mouth  opened  and  closed.  He  took  a  letter 
from  his  pocket  and  laid  a  pile  of  bills  beside  it  on  the 
table.  "Will  you  send  that  mail  order  off  for  me  to 
day,  Peter?  I'm  blowing  myself  to  a  new  saddle." 

"Must  be  money  in  staking  a  sky  pilot,"  grinned  the 
postmaster.  "I  didn't  notice  you  taking  up  a  collection 
on  Sunday,  though." 

Douglas  laughed.  "It  pays  so  well  that  I've  got  to 
ride  the  traps  again  this  winter  to  pay  for  the  grub 
stake.  Dad  is  so  sore  that  he  isn't  allowing  me  all  he 
might." 

"I'll  help  you  if  you  are  too  much  squeezed.  I  hope 
you  won't  be  as  bull-headed  about  taking  a  loan  from 
me  as  Judith  is.  By  the  way,  how  are  matters  coming 
between  you  and  Judc,  Douglas?" 

"Report  no  progress !"  grunted  Doug. 

"She's  a  restless  young  colt.  I  wish  she  could  begin 
to  get  a  sense  of  direction  as  you  are.  Maybe  she  will, 
now  she  can  get  a  bird's-eye  view  of  you.  You've  always 
lived  too  close  to  each  other  to  understand  each  other. 
You'll  learn  a  lot  about  Jude  and  she  about  you,  now 
you've  moved  a  few  miles  away." 

"Do  you  honestly  want  me  to  have  Judith,  Peter?" 
asked  Douglas  with  a  sudden  huskiness  in  his  voice. 

Peter,  who  was  standing  by  the  window  examining  the 
buckles  of  the  belt,  looked  up  at  Douglas  with  surprise 
in  the  lift  of  his  eyebrows.  After  a  moment,  he  said, 
"What  are  you  driving  at,  Doug?" 


246    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Douglas  took  a  quick  turn  up  and  down  the  room, 
then  halted  before  Peter,  his  sensitive  mouth  twitching, 
his  blue  eyes  glowing.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  could 
not  ask  the  question  that  must  be  asked;  but  finally  he 
spoke,  in  a  voice  that  was  tense  in  the  effort  for  self- 
control. 

"Peter,  I've  thought  of  nothing  else  since  last  night. 
Something  about  the  way  you  looked  at  her — !  You 
are  the  best  friend  that  I  have,  Peter,  but  I  can't  give 
Judith  up,  even  to  you;  it  would  be  like  trying  to  tear 
the  veins  out  of  my  body.  She's  my  life,  Judith  is!" 

The  older  man  put  the  rider's  belt  carefully  on  the 
window-ledge,  walked  over  to  the  table  and  slowly  filled 
his  pipe.  When  he  had  filled  it,  he  laid  it  down  beside 
the  belt,  put  his  hands  in  his  pocket,  and  turned  to 
Doug,  who,  with  the  cold  sweat  standing  on  his  forehead, 
was  watching  Peter's  every  movement.  The  wind  swept 
snow  down  through  the  sod  roof.  It  hissed  faintly  on 
the  stove.  Peter's  long  face  was  knotted  and  hard. 

"You  have  given  me  a  shock,  Douglas,"  he  said  at 
last.  "You've  given  me  a  shock!" 

Douglas'  heart  thudded  heavily.  It  was  true,  then! 
Peter  did  care,  though  perhaps  he  had  not  realized  it 
before. 

Peter  went  on,  with  painful  concentration  on  Douglas' 
blue  eyes.  "I  hadn't  known  it,  till  this  minute,  Doug.  I 
thought  I  was  through.  I'm  fifty-six.  God!  Does 
life  never  finish  with  a  man?"  He  laughed  drearily. 
"Don't  look  at  me  like  that,  Douglas!  You  and  I  will 
never  be  rivals!  This  sort  of  thing  can't  undo  me  again. 
I  swear  it!" 

He  paced  the  room  again,  and  once  more  paused  be 
fore  the  young  rider.  "Not  that  I  underestimate  the 
strength  of  the  thing.  Who  knows  so  well  as  I  that 


PRINCE  GOES  MARCHING  ON       247 

love  is  the  most  powerful  force  in  the  world?  Mind 
you,  Doug,  I  make  a  sharp  distinction  between  love  and 
lust.  Lust  can  be  controlled  by  any  one.  Love  can 
be  controlled  by  a  man  as  old  as  I  am.  But  when  love 
grips  a  young  fellow  like  you,  he  is  powerless  to  throw 
it  off.  I'd  be  a  cur,  Douglas,  at  my  age,  to  refuse  to 
throttle  a  love  that  would  conflict  with  you — the  man 
I  like  best  in  the  world." 

He  paused.  Douglas  did  not  stir.  Peter  lifted  his 
pipe,  laid  it  down,  and  set  a  match  carefully  beside 
it. 

"Douglas,"  he  said,  "my  market  is  made.  I  sold  my 
birthright  for  a  mess  of  pottage.  Whatever  regrets  or 
grief  I  may  have  are  just.  To  contemplate  a  girl  like 
Judith  having  any  interest  in  me,  is  ghastly.  Judith  is 
yours,  whether  she  realizes  it  or  not.  Will  you  stay  for 
dinner?" 

He  put  his  pipe  in  his  mouth  and  lighted  it.  Douglas 
gave  a  long,  uncertain  sigh. 

"No,  thanks,  Peter !  I  must  get  back  to  my  sky  pilot. 
You  will  be  at  the  log  chapel  early  on  Sunday?" 

"Yes.  But  you'd  better  let  him  handle  the  meeting. 
Have  him  preach  on  immortality.  You've  sort  of  got 
them  going  on  that." 

Douglas  nodded,  put  his  hand  on  the  door-knob,  then 
turned  back. 

"Peter,  does  life  never  finish  with  a  man?  Don't  yoil 
find  peace  anywhere  along  the  line?" 

"Not  your  kind  of  a  man.  There  are  a  number  of 
sure  springs  in  the  desert,  though,  where  a  man  can  be 
certain  of  a  mighty  pleasant  camp.  But  it's  only  a  camp." 

Douglas  moistened  his  lips.  "What  can  a  fellow  do 
about  it?"  he  demanded. 

"Well,"  replied  the  older  man,  "he  can  make  up  his 


248     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

mind  to  find  it  devilishly  interesting,  even  the  dry 
marches." 

The  young  rider  threw  back  his  head.  "Me — I'm 
going  to  find  more  than  interest!  I'll  find  color  and 
some  thrills,  too.  See  if  I  don't!'' 

Peter  laughed  grimly.  "Yes,  you'll  find  a  thrill  or  two 
but  always  where  you  least  expect  it." 

Douglas'  smile  was  twisted.  He  opened  the  door  and 
went  out  into  the  wind-swept  day.  Smoke  drove  hori 
zontally  from  the  low  chimneys  that  dotted  the  valley. 
Cattle  bellowed  as  if  in  disconsolate  protest  against  the 
ruthless  on-march  of  winter.  Douglas,  in  spite  of  the 
last  few  words  with  Peter,  was  in  a  curiously  uplifted 
frame  of  mind  which  for  some  time  he  could  not 
dissect.  Part  of  it  he  knew  to  be  relief  from  the  sudden 
suspicion  that  had  overwhelmed  him,  but  he  was 
half-way  home  before  he  told  himself  that  Peter's 
essential  fineness  had  revived  his  faith  in  the  goodness 
and  kindliness  in  human  nature.  In  a  life  where  one 
could  know  a  Peter,  he  thought,  there  must  be  beauty 
and  a  kind  of  beauty  that  Inez  could  neither  find  nor 
appreciate.  Poor  old  Inez! 

The  dinner  hour  was  long  past  when  he  jingled 
along  the  trail  past  his  father's  place.  On  sudden  im 
pulse  he  turned  the  Moose  into  the  yard.  Judith  opened 
the  door.  She  was  in  sweater  and  riding-skirt.  Her 
black  hair  was  bundled  up  under  a  round  beaver  cap 
under  which  her  bright  beauty  glowed  in  a  way  to  lift 
a  far  less  interested  heart  than  Doug's. 

"Hello,   Douglas!" 

"Hello,  Judith!     Where  are  you  going?" 

"Just  out  to  jump  the  little  wild  mare.  Where  have 
you  been?" 


249 

"Down  to  the  post-office.  I  saw  Dad  heading  for 
Charleton's." 

"Yes,  I'm  alone.  Mother  went  over  to  Grandma's. 
The  old  lady  is  ailing." 

Douglas  jumped  from  the  saddle.  "You  haven't 
mentioned  it,  but,  thanks,  I  will  come  in.  Is  there  any 
grub  in  the  house?  I  haven't  had  dinner  yet." 

Judith  laughed.  "I  was  expecting  that!  I  just  fin 
ished  my  own.  Come  along!" 

Douglas  ate  his  dinner  while  Judith  watched  with 
speculative  eyes. 

"Peter  is  a  funny  old  duck,"  she  said  finally. 

"Funny?       How?" 

"O,  he's  so  lonely  and  so  cross  and  such  good  company 
and  so  kind !  I'd  like  to  have  known  him  when  he  was 
young." 

Douglas  looked  at  her  closely.  "Jude,  could  you  get 
to  care  for  Peter  if  you  thought  he  cared  for  you?" 

"Who,  me?  Peter?  What's  the  matter  with  you, 
Doug?  Why,  Peter  is  as  old  as  Dad!" 

"What  difference  does  that  make?" 

"It  wouldn't  make  any  difference  if  I  cared  for  him," 
admitted  Judith,  tapping  thoughtfully  on  the  table 
cloth  with  slim  brown  fingers. 

"But  do  you  care  for  him,  Judith?"  insisted  Douglas. 

Judith's  fine  lips  twisted  contemptuously.  "What  an 
idiot  you  are,  Doug!" 

"Do  you,  hang  it?     Answer  me,  Jude!" 

"No!     No!     No!     Does  that  satisfy  you?" 

"Well,  partially.  Guess  I'll  have  to  ask  Inez  the  same 
question." 

Judith  smiled  and  shrugged  her  shoulders.  Douglas 
went  on. 


250     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"I'll  bet  if  you  could  get  the  truth  out  of  Inez,  Judith, 
you'd  find  her  suffering  torments  because  she  can't 
marry." 

"Can't  marry?  Why  can't  Inez  marry?"  demanded 
Judith  belligerently. 

"Because  no  decent  man  would  marry  her,"  returned 
Douglas  flatly. 

Judith  laughed.  "You  poor  old  male,  you !  Will  you 
kindly  tell  me  what  man  in  this  valley  you  consider  more 
decent  than  Inez?" 

"I'm  decent,''  said  Douglas,  flushing,  but  not  the  less 
firmly. 

Judith's  eyes  softened.  "You've  kept  that  promise, 
Doug?" 

"Yes,"  briefly.  "And  I  wouldn't  have  a  woman  like 
Inez  if  she  was  as  beautiful  as  Cleopatra  and  as  rich  as 
Hetty  Green!" 

"Well,"  airily,  "that  eliminates  you,  of  course.  But 
let  me  warn  you,  Douglas,  that  if  Inez  Rodman  really 
loved  a  man  and  wanted  to  marry  him,  he'd  have  about 
as  much  chance  as  a  coyote  used  to  have  when  Sister 
was  young  enough  to  run  them.  Only,  if  Inez  ever  does 
love  a  man,  she  won't  marry  him.  She'll  keep  herself 
a  mystery  to  him.  'And  forever  would  he  love  and  she 
be  fair.'" 

"What's  that   you're  quoting?"   asked  Douglas. 

Judith,  her  eyes  on  the  window  through  which  shoul 
dered  the  great  flank  of  Dead  Line  Peak,  repeated  the 
immortal  lines.  When  she  had  finished,  Douglas  sighed. 

"It's  very  beautiful!"  he  said.  "But  life  isn't  a  pro 
cession  round  a  Grecian  Urn.  It's  hard  riding  from 
start  to  finish.  And  it's  a  poor  sport  that  won't  accept 
that  fact  and  ride  according  to  the  rules.  Marriage  is 
one  of  the  rules.  I  believe  in  it." 


PRINCE  GOES  MARCHING  ON       251 

Judith  walked  slowly  round  the  table  and  put  a  hand 
on  either  shoulder.  There  was  a  baffling  light  in  her 
splendid  gray  eyes  as  she  said,  "Douglas,  do  you  think 
for  a  minute  that  if  I  told  you  I  loved  you  madly,  I 
couldn't  persuade  you  not  to  marry  me?" 

Her  touch  was  flame.  Douglas  drew  a  long,  uncertain 
breath. 

"If  you  said  that  you  loved  me  madly,  you  could  do 
almost  anything  with  me,  I  suppose.  The  only  thing 
that  keeps  me  steady  is  believing  that  you  don't  love 
me." 

Judith  smiled  curiously.  Douglas  lifted  her  hands 
from  his  shoulders.  "Don't  torture  me,  Jude,"  he  said, 
his  voice  husky  and  his  fingers  uncertain,  as  he.  lighted  a 
cigarette. 

"I  wouldn't  torture  you,  any  more  than  I'd  torture 
myself,"  replied  Judith. 

She  leaned  against  the  window- frame,  looking  out  at 
the  serenity  of  the  mountain. 

"Life,"  she  said  suddenly,  "is  like  climbing  to  the 
top  of  Falkner's  Peak.  Terribly  difficult  and  frightfully 
wearing,  but  O,  what  marvelous  views  as  you  reach 
shoulder  after  shoulder!  Inez  is  beginning  to  find  life 
rather  a  dreary  kind  of  mess.  But  not  I !  The  Lord 
knows,  my  life  looks  stupid  to  every  one  but  me,  and 
the  Lord  knows,  I'm  restless  and  unhappy.  But  I  never 
stop  thinking  for  a  minute  that  it's  great,  just  great  to 
be  alive  and  1 —  and  alive." 

Douglas  smiled  a  little  uncertainly.  "Do  you  ever 
think  twice  the  same  way,  Jude?" 

"Once  in  a  while!  In  fact,  I'm  getting  that  way  more 
and  more.  You'll  see!  I'm  going  to  get  me  educated, 
Douglas,  and  find  me  a  real  job.  See  if  I  don't!" 

Douglas  put  on  his  gloves.     "I  couldn't  be  any  prouder 


252     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

of  you,  Judith,  if  you  had  all  the  education  in  the  world. 
Don't  forget  to  come  up  on  Sunday." 

"I  suppose  I'll  have  to  lend  my  support,"  said  Ju 
dith.  "But  I  still  think  you  are  a  fool." 

"You  can  think  me  all  the  fools  you  want  to,  if  you'll 
just  keep  backing  me,"  replied  Douglas,  striding  out  to 
the  whinnying  Moose. 

He  found  old  Johnny  and  the  preacher  on  terms  of 
easy  friendship.  Johnny  was  inclined  to  be  patroniz 
ing  but  Douglas  caught  the  twinkle  in  Fowler's  eyes  and 
made  no  attempt  to  control  Johnny's  manners. 

It  was  not  until  nearly  bed  time  that  Doug  missed 
Prince.  The  old  dog  was  gradually  giving  up  the  soli 
tary  coyote  hunts  he  had  taken  in  his  younger  days  and, 
contrary  too,  to  his  earlier  habits?,  he  now  liked  to 
sleep  indoors.  He  was  usually  shivering  on  the  door 
step  waiting  for  a  chance  to  scramble  under  the  stove 
when  Doug  went  out  to  look  at  the  stock  for  the 
night. 

But  to-night  he  was  not  there,  nor  did  his  short  bark 
come  in  response  to  Doug's  whistling.  Old  Johnny  and 
the  preacher  came  to  the  door. 

"Stop  your  whistling  and  listen,  Douglas,"  suggested 
Fowler. 

Douglas  obeyed,  and  faintly  on  the  frosty  air  sounded 
the  reiterated  yelps  of  a  dog. 

"That's  Prince  and  he's  in  trouble!"  exclaimed  Doug. 

"He's  up  on  the  shoulder  of  Lost  Chief,  I  depone," 
said  Johnny. 

"I'll  go  up  there.'"  Douglas  took  his  rifle  from  behind 
the  door  and  hurried  out  to  the  corral.  The  two  men 
followed  him,  and  by  the  time  Doug  had  buckled  on 
his  spurs,  they  had  saddled  his  horse. 

"Either  he's  got  into  a  trap  or  he's  tackled  something 


PRINCE  GOES  MARCHING  ON        253 

too  big1  for  him,"  said  Douglas;  "and  it's  up  to  me  to 
look  out  for  my  pal." 

The  moon  had  risen  and  the  snow  was  very  light. 
Prince  continued  to  yelp  and  it  was  not  long  before 
Douglas  found  the  dog's  tracks  and  was  able  to  follow 
them  without  difficulty.  They  led  up  to  the  tree  line  on 
the  east  flank  of  Lost  Chief  Peak.  The  yelps  appeared 
to  come  from  not  far  within  the  border  of  pines. 

Douglas  chuckled.  "He  sure  has  bitten  off  more  than 
he  can  chew  this  time?  I'll  have  to  tell  that  old  dog 
that—" 

A  revolver  shot  interrupted  his  thoughts.  The  yelps 
abruptly  ceased.  Douglas  spurred  his  horse  and  in  a 
moment  saw  the  figure  of  a  man  standing  beside  an  out 
cropping  rock.  It  was  Charleton  Falkner.  Douglas 
threw  himself  from  his  horse.  Prince,  his  paw  in  a 
trap,  lay  motionless  on  the  ground  beside  the  badly 
mangled  body  of  a  wolverine.  Charleton's  face  in  the 
moonlight  was  coolly  vindictive. 

"I'll  teach  a  dog  to  spoil  a  pelt  for  me!"  he  said. 
"He  didn't  realize  there  were  two  traps  here." 

"But  that  was  my  dog,   Prince!"  exclaimed  Doug. 

"I  don't  care  if  it  was  the  Almighty's  dog!  He  can't 
rob  my  traps  if  I  know  it!"  snarled  Charleton. 

Douglas  advanced  slowly.  "You  don't  seem  to  get 
the  idea,  Charleton.  That  was  my  old  dog  that  grew  up 
with  me — the  faithfulest  little  chap  in  Lost  Chief.  I'd 
have  paid  you  for  the  pelt  and  you  know  it.  What  did 
you  shoot  him  for?" 

Charleton's  jaws  worked.  "I'll  show  you  and  Scott 
and  the  whole  valley  that  my  traps  and  my  hunts  are 
not  to  be  interfered  with!" 

"Still  you  don't  get  the  idea."  Douglas  was  now  not 
an  arm's-length  from  Charleton.  "You  can't  shoot  a 


254     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

man's  dog,  at  least  this  man's  dog  and  go  unpunished. 
You  and  Dad  have  bullied  this  valley  long  enough, 
Charleton.  Put  up  your  hands  and  take  your  punish 
ment." 

He  struck  the  six-shooter  from  Charleton's  hand  and 
the  battle  was  joined.  Douglas'  only  advantage  over 
his  adversary  was  in  point  of  youth,  for  Charleton  was 
as  lean  and  powerful  as  a  gorilla.  But  youth  was  a 
powerful  ally  and  eventually  it  was  Charleton  who  lay 
in  the  snow,  blinking  at  the  moon.  Douglas,  panting 
and  still  so  angry  that  it  was  difficult  for  him  not  to  kick 
Charleton  where  he  lay,  released  Prince's  paw  and  threw 
the  familiar  gray  body  across  the  saddle.  Then  he 
mounted,  laying  Prince  across  his  knees. 

Charleton  sat  up  slowly. 

"That  licking  wasn't  all  for  poor  old  Prince,"  said 
Douglas.  "Part  of  it  was  for  the  kid  whose  mind  you 
deliberately  tried  to  poison,  and  part  of  it  is  for  Inez. 
You  were  the  first  man,  you  boasted  to  me,  who  ever 
went  to  Rodman's.  And  part  of  it's  for  the  loneliness 
you've  made  in  Lost  Chief.  What  have  you  got  to  say — 
huh?" 

Charleton  rose.  "Nice  young  buck  you  are  to  attack 
a  man  old  enough  to  be  your  father!  This  is  what  I 
get  for  my  kindness  to  you.  This  is  a  bad  night's  work 
for  you,  you  young  whelp!" 

Douglas,  one  hand  on  his  old  dog's  stiffening  shoulder, 
bit  back  his  resurging  wrath  and  tapped  his  horse  with 
the  spurs.  Fowler  and  Old  Johnny  came  out  to  meet 
him.  He  gave  Prince  to  Johnny  and  then  dismounted. 

"Charleton  shot  my   dog!"   he  said. 

"What  shall  I  do  with  him?"  asked  Johnny. 

"Shut  him  up  in  the  feed  shed  and  I'll  bury  him  in 
the  morning."  Douglas  stalked  into  the  house,  where 


PRINCE  GOES  MARCHING  ON       255 

the  two  others  shortly  followed  him.  They  looked  at 
his  face  and  for  a  moment  even  old  Johnny  hesitated 
to  speak.  In  spite  of  his  cold  ride,  Doug's  face  was 
deadly  white,  his  lips  worked,  and  his  eyes  were  dark 
with  feeling.  He  took  off  his  spurs  slowly,  and  hung 
them  carefully  on  their  nail.  Then  he  sat  down  on  his 
bunk  and  stared  at  the  preacher. 

"What  happened,  Douglas?"  asked  Fowler. 

"Prince  evidently  tackled  a  wolverine  in  one  of  Charle 
ton'' s  traps  and  I'm  not  so  sure  either  but  it  might  have 
been  Scott's.  Anyhow  he  surprised  some  kind  of  a  deal 
Charleton  was  trying  to  put  over.  Then  he  got  his  paw 
in  a  free  trap  and  started  yelping.  Charleton  got  to 
him  before  I  did  and  shot  him." 

"What  was  he  doing  riding  his  traps  at  this  hour?" 
asked  the  preacher. 

"I  don't  know.  I  loved  that  dog  and  so  did  Jude. 
It  will  make  her  sick  when  she  hears.  He  was  good 
for  two  or  three  years  more  and  he  should  have  died 
like  a  good  rancher,  right  at  home,  here." 

"What  did  you  say  to  Charleton?" 

"I  said  what  I  thought  beside  knocking  him  down." 

Fowler  said  nothing  more  but  he  put  his  hand  on 
Doug's  knee.  Doug  cleared  his  throat  and  rose  osten 
sibly  to  put  a  stick  of  wood  in  the  stove. 

Old  Johnny  picked  up  the  rifle  and  started  for  the 
door. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Johnny?"  asked  Douglas, 
huskily. 

"I'm  going  to  watch.  Charleton  he  ain't  never  going 
to  stop  now  till  he  fixes  you.  He's  got  to  get  me  first. 
Maybe  I  ain't  as  smart  as  Prince  was  but  I  depone  I'll 
do  my  best." 

Douglas  laughed  a  little  brokenly.     He  put  his  arm 


256     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

around  old  Johnny's  shoulder  and  with  his   free  hand 
took  the  gun. 

"Don't  you  worry  about  me,  Johnny.  Your  job  is  the 
church  and  the  preacher  and  you  remember  you  promised 
not  to  shoot  until  you  told  me  about  it." 

"That's  right,"  exclaimed  the  preacher.  "And  now 
I  suggest  that  you  let  me  read  a  chapter  from  the  Bible 
and  that  we  then  get  to  bed." 

Johnny  looked  at  Douglas  in  embarrassment,  but 
Douglas  nodded  and  his  old  guard  sat  down  beside  him 
on  the  bunk  with  a  contented  sigh. 

"  'I  am  the  true  vine  and  my  father  is  the  husband 
man. — As  the  Father  hath  loved  me  so  have  I  loved  you : 
continue  ye  in  my  love. — This  is  my  commandment, 
that  ye  love  one  another,  as  I  have  loved  you. — Greater 
love  hath  no  man  than  this,  that  a  man  lay  down  his 
life  for  his  friends.'  '  Fowler  closed  the  book  and 
bowed  his  head  over  it.  "O  God,"  he  prayed,  "give  us 
patience  and  kindness  and  understanding.  Amen." 

He  rose  then  and  Douglas,  vaguely  comforted  by  the 
sympathy  of  the  two  old  men,  went  to  bed  and  to  sleep. 
It  had  been  a  day  of  such  stress  as  even  his  young  years 
of  mental  conflicts  had  seldom  endured. 

The  next  day,  when  Douglas  went  down  to  the  Spencer 
ranch  to  borrow  the  paraphernalia  for  dehorning,  his 
father  beckoned  him  mysteriously  into  the  cowshed. 
John  had  been  surly  for  six  months  and  Douglas  was 
surprised  to  hear  the  note  of  gratification  in  his  voice. 

"What  have  you  been  doing  to  Charleton,  Doug?" 

"What  does  he  say  I've  been  doing?"  asked  Douglas, 
picking  the  snow  out  of  his  spurs. 

"He  says  you  knocked  'him  down.  He  came  in  here 
last  night  breathing  fire." 

"Did  he  say  why  I  knocked  him  down?" 


257 

"Yes.  Because  he  wouldn't  let  your  dog  rob  his 
traps." 

"Prince  got  after  a  wolverine  in  his  or  Scott's  traps 
and  Charleton  shot  the  old  pup.  He'd  better  be  thank 
ful  I  didn't  boot  him  all  the  way  home." 

Douglas'  face  was  growing  white  again.  John  looked 
at  his  tall  son  with  a  mixture  of  admiration  and  bewilder 
ment  in  his  eyes. 

"By  the  Great  Sitting  Bull,  Doug,  I  can't  understand 
you!  Here  you  go  for  six  months  making  a  blank 
sissy  of  yourself  over  a  sky  pilot  and  then  you  give 
the  most  dangerous  man  in  the  Valley  the  gol-dingest 
mauling  and  beating  he  ever  had  in  his  life!  Why, 
even  I  won't  go  up  against  Charleton.  He's  a  bad 
man!" 

"He's  a  bag  of  wind!"  said  Douglas  contemptuously. 
"I  found  that  out  years  ago  when  his  boy  was  born. 
Does  Jude  know?" 

"No ;  she  was  asleep  and  he  stayed  in  the  kitchen  with 
me  and  washed  up.  But  don't  think  you've  finished 
with  him.  He's  a  mean  man,  Douglas." 

"Yes,  he's  mean  enough.  On  the  other  hand,  Charle 
ton  knows  I've  got  his  number  and  he'll  let  me  alone. 
I'm  not  worrying  about  him.  That  guy  can't  even  keep 
his  temper.  Loan  me  the  tar-pot,  will  you,  and  the 
searing-iron." 

John  suddenly  laughed.  Douglas  grinned  faintly, 
then  said,  "I  know  now  how  Jude  felt  when  you  shot 
that  little  old  Swift  horse." 

"I  suppose  if  you'd  been  big  enough,  you'd  have  treated 
me  as  you  did  Charleton,"  said  John  cheerfully. 

"I  sure  would  have  tried  to,"  replied  Douglas. 
"Where's  Jude?" 

"Working  on  the  little  wild  mare  in  the  corral." 


258    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Douglas  nodded  to  his  father  and  went  in  search  of 
Judith.  She  nodded  gaily  from  the  saddle. 

"Why  so  sober,  old-timer?" 

"Overwork!"  exclaimed  Douglas.  "Jude,  will  you 
come  up  and  help  me  with  the  handful  of  steers  I  want 
to  dehorn?" 

"What's  the  matter  with  Old  Gentlemen's  Home?" 
asked  Judith  with  her  impish  smile. 

"They  are  taken  up  with  reforming  each  other,"  re 
plied  Douglas;  adding  more  seriously,  "they  are  too  old 
to  be  much  help  with  the  rope,  Jude." 

"I  know,"  she  nodded.     "I'll  come  right  along." 

It  was  not  until  they  had  nearly  reached  Doug's  corral 
that  he  found  courage  to  tell  her  about  the  death  of 
Prince.  She  said  nothing,  for  a  moment,  but  she  brought 
the  mare  up  close  to  the  Moose  and  laid  her  hand  on 
Douglas'  knee. 

"Dear  old  boy!"  she  said.  "I  know!"  Then  she 
sobbed  for  a  moment  against  his  shoulder.  But  when 
he  would  have  put  his  arm  about  her  she  straightened 
herself  and  said,  "But  weren't  you  glad  you  were  strong 
enough  to  thrash  him !" 

"Yes!"  replied  Douglas. 

They  said  no  more  about  it,  but  after  the  dehorning 
was  done,  Douglas  saw  Judith  stand  for  a  long  time 
beside  the  chapel.  He  knew  how  her  heart  was  aching, 
for  she  too  was  a  lover  of  dogs. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BULLS 

"The  free  plains  were  wonderful,  but  Judith's  hand 
on  my  bit  is  more  wonderful." 

— The  Little  Wild  Mare. 

DOUGLAS  felt  somehow,  after  this  day,  that  Judith 
was  nearer  to  him.  Not  that  she  changed  in  her 
manner  at  all,  but  there  was  an  indefinable  something 
about  her  that  gave  him  hope :  hope  strong  enough  at 
least  to  put  up  a  creditable  struggle  with  the  despair  that 
was  forever  creeping  upon  him  at  unguarded  moments. 

He  slept  in  the  chapel  on  Saturday  night,  just  to  make 
sure  that  no  mischief  was  done  under  cover  of  the  dark 
ness.  And  on  Sunday,  Mr.  Fowler  preached  an  unin 
terrupted  sermon.  Scott  was  present,  giving  appar 
ently  an  undivided  ear  to  the  preacher's  discourse. 
Charleton  was  there,  too.  He  ignored  Douglas  entirely. 
He  had  probably  told  no  one  of  his  trouble  with  Douglas 
and,  knowing  Douglas,  he  apparently  felt  that  Lost  Chief 
would  remain  in  ignorance  of  the  fight.  So  his  saturn 
ine  face  was  as  serenely  insolent  as  ever,  barring  the 
remains  of  a  very  black  eye. 

Considered  from  an  entirely  detached  point  of  view, 
the  sermon  was  a  thing  of  exceeding  beauty.  Inez 
should  have  been  satisfied.  The  old  preacher  had  a  fine 
voice  and  he  spoke  without  notes.  Many  a  noted  inter 
preter  of  the  gospel  might  have  envied  him  his  control 
of  voice  and  language. 

259 


260    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

The  text  was  one  of  the  most  intriguing  in  the  Bible. 
"Jesus  said,  I  will  not  leave  you  comfortless.  I  will 
come  to  you.  Yet  a  little  while  and  the  world  seeth  me 
no  more.  But  ye  see  me.  Because  I  live,  ye  shall  live 
also."  Around  about  this,  Mr.  Fowler  wove  picture 
after  picture  of  passionate  faith  in  an  hereafter.  He  told 
of  the  death  of  his  own  father,  who  with  the  death- 
rattle  in  his  throat  had  sat  erect  in  his  bed  crying,  "O 
Christ,  I  see  your  face  at  last !" 

He  told  of  hardened  criminals  who  had  heard  God's 
voice  in  their  dreams.  He  told  of  children,  who  like 
little  Samuel  had  been  called  by  the  Almighty  in  a  voice 
as  articulate  as  that  of  their  own  fathers.  He  told  of 
the  authenticity  of  the  Biblical  history  of  Christ  and  of 
the  scientific  explanations  of  Christ's  miracles.  He  told 
of  the  faith  of  the  ancestors  of  the  people  of  Lost  Chief, 
a  faith  which  had  led  them  across  the  Atlantic  and 
through  those  first  terrible  years  on  the  bleak  New 
England  shores.  He  concluded  with  a  prayer  for  the 
return  of  the  sheep  to  the  fold,  a  prayer  delivered  with 
tears  pouring  down  his  weather-beaten  cheeks,  a 
prayer  delivered  in  anguish  of  spirit  and  in  a  voice  of 
heart-moving  sincerity. 

At  the  end,  he  sank  into  his  chair  by  the  table  and 
covered  his  eyes  with  his  shaking  hand.  Lost  Chief  sat 
silent  for  a  moment,  then  Grandma  Brown  said  in  a 
quavering  voice,  "Let  us  sing  Rock  of  Ages."  But  only 
she  knew  the  words,  and  after  a  single  verse  she  stopped, 
in  some  embarrassment. 

Charleton  coughed,  yawned  and  rose.  The  little  con 
gregation  followed  him  out  into  the  yard,  where  horses 
and  dogs  were  milling  the  half -melted  snow  into  yellow 
muck. 

"Well,  Grandma,"  asked  Charleton  as  he  helped  the 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BULLS        261 

old  lady  into  her  saddle,  "what  did  you  think  of  the 
sermon?" 

"A  pretty  good  sermon!"  replied  Grandma.  "Made 
me  feel  like  a  girl  again." 

"My  gawd,  Grandma,"  exclaimed  Charleton,  "do  you 
mean  to  say  that  an  old  Indian  fighter  like  you  swallowed 
that  stuff!" 

"I  was  believing  that  stuff  before  you  were  born, 
Charleton!  If  Fowler  is  going  to  keep  this  pace  up, 
I'll  say  I'm  sorry  I  ever  called  him  a  sissy.  What  did 
you  think  of  it,  Peter?" 

Peter  was  leaning  thoughtfully  against  his  horse.  "It 
was  interesting.  Ethics,  as  such,  are  too  cold  to 
interest  most  folks.  So  we  sugar-coat  'em  with  flowery 
speech  and  sleight-of-hand  and  try  to  give  'em  authority 
with  a  big  threat.  Then  some  hard-head  like  Charle 
ton  says,  because  the  sugar-coating  is  silly,  that  there  is 
nothing  to  ethics.  Which  is  where  he  talks  like  a  fool." 

He  whistled  to  Sister  and  trotted  homeward.  There 
was  considerable  elation  in  Doug's  cabin  that  evening. 
The  preacher  said  little  but  old  Johnny  was  in  fine 
fettle. 

"Guess  we  showed  'em!"  he  said,  frying  the  bacon 
with  a  skilled  hand.  "I  bet  we  had  words  in  that  ser 
mon  none  of  'em  ever  dreamed  of  before.  You'd  ought 
to  use  'gregus,'  Mr.  Fowler.  It's  a  hard  word  and  so's 
depone.  I  told  Grandma  to  come  up  Sunday  and  we'd 
have  words  looked  out  that  would  sure  twist  her  gullet 
to  say." 

Mr.  Fowler  was  seized  with  a  sudden  coughing  fit 
from  which  he  merged  into  violent  laughter. 

"What  did  your  sister  say?"  he  asked  when  he  found 
his  voice. 

"She  told  me  not  to  go  any  crazier  than  I  already  was, 


262    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

and  I  deponed  to  her  how  Doug  felt  about  me,  and  she 
went  home." 

The  sermon  had  indeed  gone  so  well  and  the  week 
that  followed  was  so  peaceful  that  Douglas  did  not  sleep 
in  the  chapel  on  the  following  Saturday  night.  When 
Mr.  Fowler  unlocked  the  door  on  Sunday  morning,  a 
skunk  fled  from  under  the  pulpit  out  into  the  aspens, 
and  there  was  no  service  that  day. 

On  the  next  Sunday,  Charleton  gave  an  all-day  dance 
in  the  post-office  hall  and  only  half  a  dozen  of  the  older 
people  appeared  at  the  chapel,  to  listen  to  a  sermon  on 
the  Resurrection.  He  repeated  the  dance  for  three  Sun 
days  in  succession  and  Douglas  was  in  despair.  Old 
Johnny  was  deeply  wrought  up  over  Douglas'  state  of 
mind,  and  one  Saturday  night  he  disappeared,  returning 
at  dawn.  On  that  Sunday  it  was  found  that  the  stove 
in  the  dance-hall  had  disappeared  and  a  check  was  put 
upon  Charleton's  competition. 

And  still,  with  no  dances  to  rival  the  sermons,  the 
attendance  at  the  log  chapel  grew  smaller  and  smaller. 
The  lack  of  interest  that  was  growing,  now  that  the 
Valley's  first  curiosity  had  been  satisfied,  was  more  deadly 
than  open  warfare.  Douglas  saw  clearly  enough  that 
the  sermons  were  dull  and  he  spent  evening  after  evening 
sounding  Fowler's  mind  to  its  depths  in  the  endeavor  to 
find  some  angle  in  it  that  would  tempt  Lost  Chief  into 
the  chapel. 

It  was  a  good  mind,  that  of  this  preacher,  stored  with 
a  very  fair  amount  of  classical  learning  and  packed  with 
stories  of  western  adventure.  But  classical  lore  had  no 
appeal  for  modern-minded  Lost  Chief  and  Mr.  Fowler's 
adventure  could  be  surpassed  by  any  man  in  the  Valley. 

Judith  treated  the  sermons  with  open  scorn.  "No, 
indeed;  I  won't  come  up  to  the  chapel,"  she  replied  to 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BULLS        263 

Doug's  appeal.  "Why  should  I  suffer  when  I  don't  have 
to?  If  it  would  help  you — !  But  it  wouldn't!  The 
sooner  you  learn  what  a  fool  the  old  sky  pilot  is,  the 
better.  Or,  I  tell  you,  Douglas !  You  preach  the  next 
sermon  and  I  promise  to  come  and  bring  the  crowd." 

Douglas  grinned  feebly.  "I  value  my  life,"  he  ans 
wered. 

Mary  Spencer,  who  was  listening  to  the  conversation 
which  took  place  in  her  kitchen,  now  made  a  suggestion. 

"Why  don't  you  feed  'em,  Doug?  Announce  a  series 
of  fifty-cent  dinners  up  at  the  chapel  and  while  the 
folks  eat,  let  Mr.  Fowler  preach." 

Douglas  laughed  delightedly.  "That's  a  'gregus'  ideal 
I'll  do  it.  I'll  begin  this  Sunday  with  a  venison  dinner!" 

Mary  nodded.  "You  get  the  food  together  and  there 
are  three  or  four  of  us  women  who  would  be  glad  to 
cook  it  for  you." 

"You  are  a  real  friend,  Mother!"  exclaimed  Douglas. 
"I  believe  you've  solved  my  problem !" 

And  so,  in  spite  of  Mr.  Fowler's  protest,  a  venison 
dinner  was  announced  for  Sunday  and  received  by  the 
Valley  in  a  spirit  of  hilarious  enthusiasm.  The  preacher 
refused  to  deliver  the  sermon  while  the  meal  was  in 
progress,  but  it  was  such  a  gustatory  success  that  at 
its  close,  the  guests  sat  in  complete  docility  through  a 
sermon  on  future  punishment.  It  was  a  good  sermon, 
quite  as  modern  in  most  aspects  as  Lost  Chief.  Doug 
las  had  seen  to  that.  Mr.  Fowler  had  reached  the  clos 
ing  sentence  when  a  bull  bellowed  outside  and  the  door 
opened  disclosing  Elijah  Nelson,  w7ith  his  horse  close 
behind  him.  The  preacher  paused. 

"Excuse  me!"  exclaimed  Nelson.  "I  thought  this  was 
just  a  dinner!" 

He  was  a  big  man,  perhaps  fifty  years  of  age,  with 


264    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

a  smooth-shaven  ruddy  face.  He  wore  a  sheepskin  vest 
over  his  corduroy  coat,  and  one  of  the  small  boys  bleated. 
Grandma  Brown  promptly  smacked  him  on  the  mouth. 

"Will  you  come  in  and  eat?"  asked  Fowler. 

"No,  thank  you,"  replied  the  Mormon;  adding  with 
a  determined  thrust  of  his  lower  jaw,  "I  want  Scott 
Parsons  to  come  out.  I  won't  disturb  the  rest  of  you." 

"What  do  you  want  of  me?"  demanded  Scott  from 
his  place  between  Judith  and  Inez. 

"Come  outside  and  I'll  tell  you." 

Scott  grunted  derisively.  "It  sure-gawd  has  got  to 
be  something  more  than  that  to  win  me  out  of  this 
position.  I'm  the  envy  of  Lost  Chief,  old  sheep-man!" 

There  was  a  general  laugh. 

"Go  on  out  and  see  what  he  wants,  Scott,"  said  Peter. 

Scott  sighed  and  detached  himself.  The  congregation 
waited  a  moment ;  then  curiosity  had  its  own  way  and  the 
chapel  emptied  itself  into  the  yard.  Several  Mormons 
were  sitting  their  horses  before  the  line  of  quivering  as 
pens  that  bound  the  little  clearing.  A  big  red  bull  was 
tied  to  the  corral  fence.  Elijah  Nelson  remained  on  the 
doorstep. 

"Well,"  he  began,  "since  you  are  all  out  here,  I'll  say 
to  all  of  you  what  I  rode  down  here  to  say  to  Scott  Par 
sons,  he  and  anybody  that  may  be  helping  him  are  hereby 
served  notice  that  they've  got  to  keep  out  of  Mormon 
Valley.  We  are  decent,  God-fearing  Americans,  and 
we  are  not  going  to  stand  being  robbed  any  more." 

"How  do  you  mean,  being  robbed?"  asked  Peter 
Knight. 

"Well,  I  brought  this  along  as  a  sample,"  replied  Eli 
jah.  "Some  five  years  or  so  ago,  I  had  some  cattle 
grazing  on  Lost  Chief  and  somebody  ran  off  a  dozen 
head,  this  bull  among  the  lot.  Anybody  that  can't  da 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BULLS        265 

a  better  job  of  rebranding  than  this,  ought  to  try  another 
line  of  business." 

There  was  an  interested  craning  of  necks  toward  the 
huge  brand  offered  in  evidence;  then  every  one  looked 
at  Scott.  Scott  said  nothing,  and  Elijah  went  on. 

"That  fellow  Parsons  patrolled  Mormon  Creek,  that 
heads  up  at  Lost  Chief  Springs,  all  summer.  He  built 
a  brush  dam  and  threw  the  water  out  of  our  creek  into 
his  own  ditch,  whenever  he  felt  like  it.  I  didn't  want 
to  start  a  fight  going.  That's  not  a  Mormon's  business. 
We  are  peaceful  folks,  homesteading  the  wilderness.  It 
was  a  wet  summer  and  we  managed  to  get  enough  water 
out  of  White  Horse  Creek  to  take  care  of  us.  But  right 
is  right  and  wrong  is  wrong  and  we  aren't  going  to 
stand  that  next  summer.  Last  week,  a  coyote  was  fast 
ened  into  my  chicken  run ;  and  last  night  a  mountain  lion 
with  a  trap  hanging  to  his  leg  got  into  my  corral,  where 
I  had  two  foals,  and  he  killed  them  before  I  could  get 
out.  The  trap  had  Scott  Parsons'  name  cut  onto  it. 
I  don't  know  who  is  helping  him,  if  any,  but  I'm  here 
with  my  neighbors  to  serve  notice  that  it's  got  to  stop. 
I  see  you've  got  a  preacher  here  now.  I  begin  to  have 
hopes  you  may  become  peaceable  yet." 

A  sudden  gust  of  laughter  swept  Lost  Chief. 

"Well,  Scott,"  asked  Peter,  "what  have  you  got  to 
say?" 

"Me?"  asked  Scott.  "I'm  not  a  preacher  or  a  Mor 
mon.  I  haven't  got  the  gift  of  gab.  Charleton  is  a 
good  talker.  Let  him  say  something." 

"All  right,  old  trapper,"  said  Charleton  obligingly. 
He  grinned  at  Inez  and  began: 

"Yet,  ah,  that  Spring  should  vanish  with  the  Rose, 
That  Youth's  sweet-scented  manuscript  should  close, — " 

Elijah  Nelson  interrupted.     "Is  this  the  way  you  are 


266    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

going  to  answer  a  decent  protest  against  injustice?  Is 
this—" 

"Wait  now!"  cried  Grandma  Brown.  "Don't  get  all 
prodded  up.  Scott,  you  give  this  man  a  straight  answer." 

"Very  well,  Grandma;  I'll  do  that  little  thing  for  you," 
drawled  Scott.  "Nelson,  you  and  the  rest  of  you 
Mormons  and  Jack-Mormons  go  plumb  to  hell,  but  leave 
my  bull  behind." 

One  of  Nelson's  neighbors  rose  in  his  stirrups  and 
shook  his  fist  at  Scott.  "You  dogy- faced  Gentile!  I've 
got  you  marked!  You  are  the  one  who  ran  our  cattle 
off  Lost  Peak  five  years  ago,  and  we  know  who  helped 
you." 

"Well,  I  think  you  Mormons  had  better  get  back  to 
your  plural  wives!"  cried  John  Spencer.  "We've  had 
about  enough  of  this." 

"Judith,"  said  Douglas,  "you  take  your  mother  and 
go  home." 

Judith  turned  bright  eyes  toward  him.  "Think  I'm 
going  to  run  away?  No,  sir!" 

Elijah's  neighbor  laid  his  gun  across  his  own  arm. 
"Say  that  again,  Spencer,"  he  suggested,  "unless  you 
aren't  willing  to  fight  for  your  daughter!" 

Mr.  Fowler  sprang  up  beside  Nelson  on  the  doorstep. 
"I  beg  of  you  all  to  disperse  to  your  homes  and  don't 
desecrate  the  Sabbath  by  such  a  scene  as  this." 

"O,  don't  talk  like  a  fool,  Fowler!''  exclaimed  Grandma 
Brown.  At  this  moment  her  little  grandson  came  roaring 
lustily  up  the  trail.  He  was  covered  with  muck  and 
snow. 

"Judith's  bull  has  got  away  from  us  kids  and  he's 
headed  this  way!'' 

"What  were  you  doing  with  him?"  shrieked  Grandma. 

"We  was  going  to  bring  him  up  here  and  put  him 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BULLS        267 

in  the  church  like  Scott  paid  us  for.     And  he  said — " 

But  what  the  child  intended  to  divulge  was  not  to  be 
known,  for  there  was  a  bellow  from  the  thickest  of  blue 
spruce  and  Sioux,  with  various  chains  and  ropes  dang 
ling  from  his  neck  and  legs,  charged  into  the  clearing. 
There  was  a  sudden  wild  scattering  of  human  beings. 
Judith  whistled  shrilly,  but  Sioux  had  been  goaded  be 
yond  her  control. 

"Let  me  get  my  rope!"  she  cried. 

"Hold  up!''  shouted  Charleton.  "Something's  going 
to  happen!"  . 

The  Mormon's  bull  had  broken  his  halter  and  had 
turned  to  meet  the  on-coming  Sioux.  Sioux's  bloodshot 
eyes  fell  on  the  stranger,  and  instantly  the  battle  was 
joined.  Snow  flew.  The  buck  fence  crashed.  The 
bulls  bellowed,  locked  horns,  retreated,  charged,  slipped, 
fell,  rose  again  with  a  rapidity  only  equalled  by  the 
ferocity  of  the  attack. 

"They'll  kill  each  other  if  they  aren't  stopped!"  cried 
Fowler.  "Stop  them,  Douglas!  O  God,  what  a  place! 
What  a  place!" 

"What  a  fight,  you  mean!"  laughed  Charleton.  "I 
put  up  ten  dollars  on  Sioux." 

"Take  you!"  said  Scott. 

"If  Spencer's  bull  kills  mine,  he'll  pay  for  it!"  cried 
Nelson. 

"If  they  work  into  the  corral,"  shouted  Douglas, 
"some  of  you  help  me  put  up  the  fence  again  and  we'll  have 
them!" 

"Well,  but  don't  stop  the  fight."  Young  Jeff  gesti 
culated  excitedly.  "I'm  going  to  put  up  ten  on  Sioux!" 

"Take  you!"  said  Scott. 

Nelson's  bull  ripped  Sioux's  flank  for  six  inches  and 
blood  spurted  to  the  ground.  Both  the  great  heads  were 


268     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

undistinguishable  masses  of  blood.  Their  hot  breath 
hung  frozen  in  the  air.  The  western  sun  turned  all 
the  world  beneath  the  aspens  to  crimson.  The  betting 
became  more  general  and  more  hectic  as  the  battle  waxed 
more  furious.  The  Mormons  forgot  their  grievance  for 
the  moment  and  backed  their  bull  freely. 

Suddenly  Sioux  freed  himself,  retreated  and  charged 
with  the  full  force  of  his  two  thousand  pounds.  He 
caught  Nelson's  bull  on  the  fore  shoulder.  The  visitor 
slid  sideways,  stumbled  to  his  knees  and  rose,  shaking 
the  blood  from  his  eyes.  He  gave  a  look  at  Sioux,  who 
was  preparing  to  charge  again,  and  turning  he  fled  along 
the  trail  toward  Scott's  ranch,  uttering  as  he  went  the 
longdrawn  and  continuous  bellow  of  the  defeated  bull. 

Douglas,  Judith,  and  John  Spencer  immediately  roped 
Sioux.  Scott  spurred  his  horse  across  the  trail  and 
drew  his  gun.  "Get  back!"  he  said  to  two  of  the  Mor 
mons.  "That's  my  bull!" 

"No  gun-play,  Scott!"  called  Peter. 

There  was  a  sudden  exodus  of  women  and  children 
down  the  home  trail,  but  Judith  continued  talking  sooth 
ingly  to  her  bull. 

Scott  did  not  heed  the  postmaster.  He  went  on,  to 
the  Mormons.  "You  blank-blanks  have  trimmed  me  out 
of  my  year's  profits!  I'm  not  going  to  lose  the  bull 
too!" 

"Judith  Spencer!"  shouted  Elijah  Nelson,  turning  his 
horse  toward  Judith  and  her  pet,  "is  that  Scott  Parsons' 
bull?" 

There  was  sudden  silence,  broken  only  by  the  distant 
bello\v  of  the  retreating  warrior.  Judith  sat  very  erect 
on  Buster,  her  beaver  cap  on  the  back  of  her  head,  her 
wide  gray  eyes  brilliant.  She  looked  at  Scott.  His  hard 
handsome  face  was  expressionless.  Douglas  ran  across 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BULLS        269 

the  yard  and  reached  up  to  tap  Elijah  Nelson  on  the 
chest. 

"Don't  drag  a  woman  into  this,  you  bastard  American, 
you!  I  was  up  there  that  summer  running  your  cattle 
and  I  lost  every  one  of  them,  if  you  want  to  know,  and 
there  was  no  woman  helping  me  out,  either.  Now,  what 
are  you  going  to  do  about  that?" 

Nelson  lifted  his  hand. 

"Wait  a  minute!"  drawled  Charleton.  "It  sure-gawd 
is  your  bull,  Nelson.  Scott  ran  it  up  to  Mountain  City, 
rebranded  it  there,  and  brought  it  back  here  in  the 
spring." 

"Why,  you  traitor!"  roared  Scott.  "You  staged  the 
whole  play,  and  I'll  bet  you  staged  this  with  your  traps." 

"I  never  let  a  debt  go  unpaid,"  chuckled  Charleton. 

"Aw,  come  off,  Scott!"  cried  John  Spencer.  "Give 
them  the  bull  and  send  them  home.  We  are  sick  of  your 
rows  in  this  valley!" 

Scott  forgot  that  he  was  guarding  the  trail.  He 
spurred  his  horse  furiously  toward  John,  flourishing  his 
six-shooter.  The  two  Mormons  slipped  quickly  away. 

"If  you  think  you  can  sacrifice  me  for  Jude,  John 
Spencer!"  cried  Scott.  He  got  no  farther,  for  Douglas, 
now  on  the  Moose,  cracked  him  on  the  right  wrist  with 
the  butt  of  his  own  gun.  At  the  same  time,  Peter 
knocked  John's  arm  into  the  air.  Scott's  weapon  dropped 
into  the  snow. 

"Now,"  said  Douglas  with  his  quiet  grin,  "this  venison 
dinner  party  of  mine  is  announced  as  over.  You 
Mormons  take  yourselves  and  your  dogs  off  my  place. 
Frank,"  to  the  sheriff,  who  had  been  an  amused 
spectator  up  to  this  point,  "come  over  here  and  soothe 
Scott.  He's  a  right  nervous  cowman  to-day.  Dad,  you 
take  Tude  home." 


270     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Frank  rode  slowly  over  to  take  Scott's  bridle. 

"Well,"  said  Peter,  ''looks  like  our  host  wants  to  get 
rid  of  us.  Come  on,  Charleton." 

"I'll  get  you  later,  Charleton!''  shouted  Scott. 

"But  how  about — "  began  Nelson. 

Douglas  turned  in  his  saddle  and  faced  the  older  man. 
His  young  eyes  suddenly  looked  grim  and  hard.  "Nel 
son,  you  have  seen  what  Lost  Chief  is  like  to-day.  We 
have  no  fear  and  we  have  no  friends  and  we  have  no 
God.  But  Lost  Chief  is  ours  and  we  intend  to  keep  it. 
No  Mormon  is  welcome.  Don't  use  our  trails  or  our 
range  or  our  herd  waters.  Now,  go!" 

"Those  are  hard  words,  such  as  a  man  can't  afford  to 
speak  to  a  neighbor,"  said  Elijah,  turning  his  horse 
slowly. 

Douglas  did  not  reply,  and  not  at  all  reluctantly  the 
visitors  spurred  up  the  drifted  trail. 

"Come  on,  Judith!"  John  nodded  to  the  girl. 

"I'm  going  to  stay  and  doctor  Sioux  up,"  she  said. 

"Go  on  home,  Judith,"  urged  Douglas. 

"I'll  take  care  of  the  bull  for  you,"  said  old  Johnny, 
who  had  not  spoken  a  word  during  the  entire  episode. 

"Nobody  can  touch  him  in  the  state  he's  in  but  me. 
You  know  that!"  declared  Judith. 

"Judith,"  repeated  Douglas,  "you  go  home." 

"Why?"  demanded  the  girl. 

"You  know  why,  Judith.     Go  on  with  Dad." 

Judith  set  her  lips,  and  slowly,  very  slowly  spurred 
Buster  after  John's  horse.  Not  until  she  was  out  of 
earshot  did  Douglas  say  to  Scott : 

"Scott,  let's  you  and  me  settle  our  differences  once 
and  for  all."  It  was  dark  now  and  cold.  "You  gather 
up  that  gun,  Johnny,  and  we'll  go  into  the  cabin  where 
it's  warm." 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BULLS        271 

"I'll  not  go  near  your  house!"     Scott  spoke  gruffly. 

"Look  here,  Scott!  Don't  be  a  grouch!  Let's  see 
if  we  can't  get  together." 

"Get  together?  What  for?  Some  of  this  pious  stuff, 
I  suppose!" 

"No,  it's  not!  It's  just  common  sense.  We  both 
plan  to  spend  our  lives  in  this  valley.  Why  fight  all 
the  time?" 

"You  can  bet  I  do  plan  to  spend  my  life  in  this  valley. 
Neither  you  nor  Charleton  can  run  me  out.  Lost  Chief 
is  as  much  mine  as  it  is  yours.  Don't  you  ever  get 
it  into  that  thick  head  of  yours  that  you  can  be  Big 
Chief  here.  I  am  going  to  have  a  ringer  in  this  pie 
myself." 

"Aw,  draw  it  mild,  Scott!"  protested  the  sheriff. 
"Nobody's  afraid  of  your  threats.  Doug's  advice  is 
good.  Come  out  of  your  grouch  and  join  the  crowd." 

"Whose  crowd?  Doug's?  I  didn't  know  he  had  one 
except  for  idiots,"  sneered  Scott. 

"No,"  said  Douglas  cheerfully,  "we  don't  want  any 
idiots  in  our  crowd.  We  want  good  friends  and  watch 
men,  hey,  Johnny?  Come  on  in,  Scott.  The  going  is 
pretty  good." 

Scott  uttered  an  oath.  Douglas,  a  straight,  rather 
tense  figure  in  the  dusk,  did  not  speak  again  for  a  long 
moment;  then  he  said  quietly,  "All  right,  Scott!  I'm 
through.  Get  off  my  place,  quick!" 

He  dismounted  and  unsaddled  the  Moose.  Scott  rode 
off  at  a  gallop. 

"Want  any  help  with  the  bull,  Doug?"  asked  Frank 
Day. 

"No,  thanks !  We'll  get  him  into  the  stable  and  then 
look  him  over.  Get  the  lantern,  will  you,  Johnny?" 

"Then  I'll  be  riding,"  said  the  sheriff.     "My  chores 


272     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

should  have  been  done  an  hour  ago,"  and  he  jingled 
down  the  trail. 

It  was  not  difficult  to  lead  Sioux  into  the  little  log 
cow  stable.  But  here  all  progress  ceased.  The  bull 
became  so  frantic  whenever  they  tried  to  examine  his 
wounds  that  after  a  prolonged  struggle  they  left  him. 
Johnny  and  Douglas  finished  the  chores  while  the  preacher 
went  into  the  cabin  and  got  supper.  They  sat  long  over 
the  meal.  Old  Johnny  was  deeply  excited.  A  fight 
always  upset  his  poor  old  tangled  nerves.  Douglas  finally 
suggested  that  he  take  the  lantern  and  clean  up  after  the 
dinner;  and  the  old  man,  who  loved  to  potter  about  the 
chapel  almost  as  much  as  did  the  preacher,  acquiesced 
enthusiastically. 

After  he  had  gone,  Fowler  said,  "Douglas,  that  little 
chap  is  going  to  do  some  one  bodily  harm  if  we  aren't 
careful.  He  is  getting  fanatically  devoted  to  you.  I 
had  to  keep  my  hand  on  his  arm  all  the  afternoon." 

"The  poor  old  dogy !"  Doug  shook  his  head.  "We'll 
keep  the  guns  away  from  him,  and  then  he  won't  get 
into  trouble.  I'm  more  bothered  about  you  and  Scott 
than  I  am  about  me  and  Johnny,  though!" 

"Scott  means  mischief,"  said  the  preacher. 

Douglas  nodded.  "I  don't  want  you  to  go  anywhere 
without  me.  He  is  plenty  smart  enough  to  know  that 
the  best  way  to  get  me  is  through  you — or  Judith !" 

"Don't  worry  about  me,  Douglas.  I  heard  Bryan  say 
once,  'My  body  is  covered  with  the  callouses  of  defeat. 
No  one  can  hurt  me.'  I  am  like  Bryan.  No  one  can 
hurt  me.  And  I  would  guess  that  Judith  can  look  out  for 
herself." 

Douglas  grunted.  The  two  sat  staring  at  the  fire  in 
a  silence  that  was  not  broken  until  Judith  called  from 
without,  "Douglas,  I  want  to  see  Sioux!" 


flTHE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BULLS        273 

Douglas  took  up  the  lantern  and,  followed  by  Fowler, 
went  out.  Judith  stood  beside  Buster. 

"You  give  me  the  lantern,  Doug,  and  neither  of  you 
follow  me.  I  can  manage  him  best  alone."  She  was  not 
gone  long.  "He's  not  as  bad  off  as  I  feared,"  she  said 
when  she  returned.  "I'll  let  him  feed  and  rest  for  another 
hour,  then  I'll  take  him  down  home  where  I  can  tend  to 
him  right." 

"Then  let's  go  in  out  of  the  cold,"  suggested  Fowler. 

When  they  were  established  around  the  stove,  Judith 
asked,  "How  did  you  and  Scott  get  along,  Douglas?" 

Douglas  told  her  of  the  conversation.  Judith  looked 
serious. 

"You  see,  Doug,  Dad  keeps  Scott  sore  all  the  time 
about  me.  I  don't  think  he'd  be  half  so  ugly  to  you  if 
it  were  not  for  that." 

"O  yes,  he  would!"  replied  Douglas.  "Scott  and  I 
were  born  to  fight  with  each  other,  just  like  old  Prince 
and  Charleton's  Nero.  We  can't  help  our  backs  bris 
tling  when  we  see  each  other." 

"Inez  could  make  Scott  behave  if  she  cared  anything 
about  it.  Scott  isn't  in  love  with  her,  but  she  has  a 
lot  of  influence  over  him,  like  she  has  over  the  other  men 
in  this  valley."  Judith  watched  her  hunting-boots  steam 
against  the  hearth. 

"She  has  too  much  influence  over  you,  Judith,"  said 
Mr.  Fowler. 

"She's  my  friend,"  returned  Judith  briefly. 

"Your  friend!"  cried  Fowler.  "Your  friend!  Do 
you  realize  what  you  are  saying?" 

"Yes,  I  certainly  do,  and  I  don't  want  a  lecture  about 
it  either."  Judith  sat  erect. 

Mr.  Fowler  leaned  forward,  his  eyes  glowing  with 
indignation.  "I've  swallowed  all  I  can  swallow  about 


274     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Inez  Rodman.  I  allowed  Douglas  to  bring  her  to  the 
table  and  I  ate  with  her  though  my  gore  rose  in  my 
throat.  Because  I  felt  that  my  only  chance  to  win  the 
confidence  of  Lost  Chief  was  to  countenance  for  a  time 
that  which  cannot  be  countenanced.  But  I  am  through. 
How  long  do  you  think  you  can  be  a  friend  to  Inez, 
Judith,  and  not  become  like  her?" 

Judith  jumped  to  her  feet.  "O,  I  am  so  sick  of  this 
kind  of  thing!"  she  cried. 

"Fowler  is  dead  right  and  you  know  it,  Judith,"  said 
Douglas. 

"You  don't  dare  to  say  these  things  to  her  face!" 
Judith's  eyes  were  full  of  the  tears  of  anger. 

"I'd  just  as  soon,"  Douglas  grinned. 

"I'm  going  to  tell  her  what  I  think  of  her  and  what 
she  is  doing  to  the  youth  of  Lost  Chief,"  stated  Mr. 
Fowler. 

"She's  not  a  bit  worse  for  Lost  Chief  than  Charleton 
Falkner,"  exclaimed  Judith.  "And  you  don't  pick  on 
him!" 

"He  couldn't  be  as  bad  as  Inez,"  insisted  the  preacher. 
"There  is  nothing  so  bad  for  a  community  'as  her  kind 
of  a  woman." 

"That  just  isn't  so,  Mr.  Fowler,"  protested  Douglas. 
"Charleton  is  worse  than  Inez  ever  thought  of  being. 
All  I'm  complaining  about  is  her  influence  on  Judith." 

"You  both  talk  as  if  I  had  no  mind  of  my  own!" 
Judith  said  indignantly.  "If  you  -knew  the  temptations 
I'd  withstood,  you'd  not  be  so  free  with  your  comments 
about  me.  And  if  all  I'm  going  to  get  when  I  come  up 
here  is  criticism,  I'm  not  coming  any  more.  Don't  you 
follow  me,  Douglas!"  and  Judith,  in  her  short  khaki 
suit,  swept  out  of  the  cabin  with  a  grace  and  dignity 
that  would  have  done  credit  to  a  velvet  train. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BULLS        275 

The  preacher  was  deeply  perturbed.  He  rose  and 
paced  the  floor.  "Douglas,  I've  tried  to  play  this  thing 
your  way.  But  now  I  am.  through  compromising. 
There  can  be  no  compromise  with  God.  I'm  no  longer 
going  to  keep  silence  when  events  like  those  this  after 
noon  take  place.  Undoubtedly  my  stay  in  Lost  Chief 
will  be  short.  But  while  I'm  here  I  am  going  to  stand 
openly  and  vehemently  for  the  ten  commandments." 

Douglas  tilted  his  chair  back,  folded  his  arms  on  his 
chest,  and  dropped  his  chin.  "Something's  wrong  with 
your  religion,"  he  said. 

"Nothing  is  wrong  with  my  religion,"  retorted  the 
preacher.  "But  Lost  Chief  is  more  wrong  than  most 
places.  It's  a  transplanted  New  England  community, 
and  people  who  come  from  Puritan  stock  can't  get  along 
without  God.  They  are  worse  than  any  one  else  without 
Him." 

"I'm  sick  of  worrying  about  it!"  cried  Douglas 
irritably. 

"Do  you  mean  you  are  sick  of  the  fight?  That  you 
are  going  to  let  Inez  have  Judith?" 

Douglas  straightened  up.  "No,  by  God!  Not  if  I 
have  to  shoot  Inez !  You  go  ahead  and  preach  your  own 
way.  I'll  see  that  you  are  not  hurt." 

And  this  was  his  last  word  on  the  subject  that  night. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE   FLAME   IN   THE  VALLEY 

"The  coyote  is  a  coward,  so  his  bite  is  the  nastiest." 

— Old  Sister,  the  dog. 

THE  next  day  when  Douglas  went  down  to  the  ranch 
to  help  out  with  a  day's  work  for  which  John  had 
asked  him,  Judith  obviously  avoided  him.  Douglas 
made  no  attempt  to  enforce  a  tete-a-tete  until  mid-after 
noon.  Then  he  followed  Jude  into  the  empty  cow  stable. 

"Jude,  I  can't  bear  to  have  you  think  I'm  not  fair  about 
Inez.  If  that's  what  you  are  sore  about." 

Judith  laid  carefully  back  the  eggs  she  had  taken  out 
of  the  manger.  Her  face  was  set  when  she  turned  to 
him.  "It  doesn't  matter  much,  I  suppose,  whether  you 
are  fair  to  Inez  or  not.  She  can  take  care  of  herself. 
What  I'm  angry  about  is  your  being  so  stupid  with  me, 
alwrays  picking  at  me  about  the  things  that  don't  count 
and  so  wrapped  up  in  your  own  ideas  that  you  can't  see 
what  I  really  need,  and  why  I  am  so  terribly  restless." 

Douglas  leaned  against  the  door-post,  his  face  eager, 
his  breath  a  little  quickened.  Now,  at  last,  perhaps  he 
was  to  win  past  the  threshold  and  gaze  upon  Judith's 
inner  solitude.  But  he  would  not  crowd  her. 

"What  is  it  that  makes  you  so  restless,  Judith?"  he 
asked  gently. 

"Well,  it  certainly  isn't  lack  of  religion  and  it  certainly 
isn't  lack  of  marrying,"  she  retorted.  "Those  are  the 

276 


THE  FLAME  IN  THE  VALLEY        277 

only  suggestions  you've  ever  been  able  to  make  about 
my  state  of  mind." 

''But,  you  see,"  Doug's  voice  was  still  gentle,  "I  don't 
even  know  what  your  state  of  mind  is !  Sometimes  you 
tell  me  you  find  life  a  bitter  disappointment.  Sometimes 
you  find  it  very  beautiful.  Sometimes  you  want  to  spend 
all  your  days  in  Lost  Chief.  Sometimes  you  must  sell 
your  heart's  blood  to  get  away  from  it.  All  that  I  really 
know  about  your  state  of  mind  is  that  you  are  lonely  and 
uneasy,  like  me." 

Judith  watched  him  with  less  perhaps  of  anger  than 
of  resentment  in  her  deep  gray  eyes. 

"It's  the  unfairness  of  it!  The  utter  unfairness  of  life 
to  women!"  she  burst  out.  "Don't  you  see?" 

Douglas  shook  his  head.  "How  can  I  see?  You  are 
very  beautiful.  You  have  the  strength  of  a  fine  boy. 
You  have  a  splendid  mind.  You  have  a  very  special 
gift  in  handling  animals.  You  are  gay  and  brave- 
hearted  and  lovable.  Why  in  the  world  should  I  feel 
that  life  isn't  fair  to  you?" 

"Don't  you  see?"  wringing  her  hands  together.  "I 
have  all  that,  and  no  chance  to  use  any  of  it  so  that  it's 
put  to  any  sort  of  big  use  at  all.  I'm  buried  alive !" 

"Oh!"  Douglas  gasped.  He  had  indeed  seen  Judith's 
trouble.  All  the  vital  beauty,  the  splendid  talents — was 
marriage  to  him  a  big  use  of  them?  "Oh!"  he  repeated. 
He  brushed  his  hand  across  his  eyes.  "God!  Judith," 
he  muttered,  "what  can  I  do?" 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said,  "but  at  least  you  can  stop 
trying  to  thrust  old  Fowler  down  my  throat.  As  for 
Inez,  I  judge  Inez  a  good  deal  more  exactly  than  you 
do  and  in  many  ways  more  harshly.  But  what  I  do 
insist  on  is  that  no  man  in  Lost  Chief  is  fit  to  judge 
her." 


278     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Judith  again  picked  up  the  eggs,  and  went  out. 

Douglas  put  in  the  rest  of  the  week  placing  his  traps 
up  the  canyon,  and  purposely  avoided  talking  with 
Fowler  about  his  next  sermon.  He  was  not  surprised, 
however,  when  he  read  the  announcement  which  the 
preacher  gave  him  to  tack  up  on  the  post-office  door. 
The  sermon  was  to  deal  with  the  modern  Magdalene. 

Fowler  had  chosen  his  subject  with  the  idea  of  exciting 
popular  interest :  his  choice  was  almost  perfect.  Every 
soul  in  Lost  Chief  was  packed  into  the  log  chapel  long 
before  the  services  began — every  soul,  that  is,  but  Inez. 
Mr.  Fowler  never  had  been  more  eloquent  and  never,  pro 
bably,  had  preached  to  a  more  deeply  interested  congre 
gation.  His  sermon  was  a  vitriolic  arraignment,  thinly 
disguised  by  Biblical  nomenclature,  of  Inez  Rodman. 

When  Fowler  had  finished,  Young  Jeff  rose  slowly  to 
his  feet.  Douglas,  from  his  usual  place  in  a  rear  seat, 
smiled  a  little.  He  liked  Young  Jeff  and  liked  him  best 
when  he  rose  as  now,  to  do  battle  for  a  friend. 

"Fowler,"  said  Young  Jeff,  "I  don't  like  that  sermon. 
We  all  know  who  you  are  driving  at,  and  as  for  me,  you 
make  me  very  sore.  That's  a  Lost  Chief  girl  and  no 
outsider  can  come  in  here  and  insult  her." 

"Right!     Right!"  called  several  men. 

"I  didn't  expect  you  to  like  the  sermon,"  said  Mr. 
Fowler.  "I'm  through  saying  pleasant  things  to  you 
folks.  You  are  going  to  get  straight  facts  from  now 
on." 

"That's  as  it  may  be.  But  you  keep  your  tongue  off 
of  Lost  Chief  women." 

"I  don't  know  why  you  get  your  back  up,  Young 
Jeff !"  cried  Grandma  Brown.  "The  people  of  Lost  Chief 
aren't  ignorant.  They  do  what  they  do  because  they 
prefer  it  that  way.  They  know  what  the  world  calls 


THE  FLAME  IN  THE  VALLEY       279 

their  doings.  Why  be  squeamish  when  Fowler  comes 
in  here  and  just  repeats  the  world's  attitude  on  such 
doings?  Inez  is  the  ruination  of  our  young  folks,  and 
we  all  know  it." 

"That's  right!"  called  Mrs.  Falkner;  and  Mary  Spencer 
added  a  low,  "Yes!  Yes!" 

"She's  better  than  any  man  in  the  room,  right  now!" 
cried  Judith.  "If  you  are  going  to  drive  her  out,  you 
ought  to  drive  the  men  out." 

"Fine!"  called  Charleton  Falkner. 

There  was  a  quick  guffaw  of  laughter,  during  which 
John  Spencer  rose. 

"Fowler,  I  don't  want  to  seem  to  go  against  my  own 
son,  but  I  want  to  say  that  if  you  try  any  more  sermons 
like  this  one,  I'm  going  to  head  a  committee  to  run 
you  out  of  the  Valley." 

"I'd  want  to  be  head  of  that  committee  myself.  Don't 
be  a  hog,  John!"  drawled  Charleton. 

"That's  a  good  idea!"  exclaimed  Scott  Parsons.  "If 
the  preacher  says,  'Drive  Inez  out/  we'll  say,  'Out  with 
the  preacher !'  ' 

"You're  all  talking  like  a  parcel  of  children!"  said 
Grandma  Brown. 

"Come  on!"  shouted  Scott.  "The  Pass  is  open.  Let's 
send  him  out  now!" 

Douglas  slid  to  the  end  of  the  seat.  Fowler  stood 
tensely  behind  the  table,  pale,  but  calm.  Peter  Knight 
spoke  for  the  first  time. 

"I've  got  an  idea.  Let's  give  the  sky  pilot  just  one 
more  chance.  Let's  ask  him  to  preach  a  sermon  next 
Sunday  that  we  can  all  feel  the  right  kind  of  an  interest 
in,  or  else  resign,  himself." 

Douglas  spoke  suddenly,  "Just  what  would  that  kind 
of  a  sermon  be  about,  Peter?" 


280     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"Well,  that's  Fowler's  job,"  replied  Peter.  "He's  been 
at  it  all  his  life.  He's  probably  learned  by  this  time  the 
kind  of  sermons  people  don't  like.  I  don't  want  to  see 
him  driven  out  of  Lost  Chief.  I  want  him  to  have  his 
chance." 

"That's  fair  enough,"  exclaimed  Charleton.  "This 
isn't  such  bad  fun.  Why  drive  him  out  while  the  fun 
lasts?  How  about  it,  John?" 

"Fair  enough!"  agreed  John. 

"Nothing  doing!"  cried  Scott. 

"Now,  Scott,"  warned  Charleton  amiably,  "you  run 
the  bull  business  and  you'll  have  your  hands  full.  We 
old  regulars  will  handle  the  preacher." 

"Huh  !"  sniffed  Grandma  Brown.  "Wonderful !  'Old 
regulars!'  Well,  don't  any  of  you  old  regulars  forget 
that  Douglas  Spencer  has  grown  up  and  that  his  brand 
mark  is  the  same  as  his  grandfather's.  I  think  you  all 
are  acting  like  a  parcel  of  children!" 

Nobody  spoke  for  a  moment.  Douglas  watched  Mr. 
Fowler  anxiously,  but  the  old  preacher  appeared  to  have 
no  weapons  with  which  to  meet  the  occasion.  Douglas 
felt  that  the  situation  was  getting  out  of  hand.  He 
knew  how  to  meet  physical  resistance,  but  he  realized 
that  he  was  only  a  novice  in  the  sort  of  strategy  that 
controls  by  mental  superiority  alone.  He  ground  his 
teeth  together. 

"I'm  young  yet  and  I'll  learn !  See  if  I  don't!"  Then 
he  pressed  his  lips  together  and  waited. 

Peter  broke  the  silence. 

"How  about  it,  Fowler?" 

"I'll  agree  to  nothing.  I  am  through  compromising." 
The  old  man's  eyes  were  blazing  in  a  white  face. 

"You're  foolish!"  exclaimed  the  postmaster.  "But 
we  insist  on  giving  you  one  more  chance.  Let's  see 


THE  FLAME  IN  THE  VALLEY        281 

what  you  can  do  for  us  next  Sunday.  I  move  we  ad 
journ."  And  the  meeting  broke  up  with  a  considerable 
amount  of  laughter. 

There  was  very  little  discussion  of  the  situation  in 
the  cabin,  that  night.  Mr.  Fowler  seemed  inexpressibly 
tired  and  broken,  and  Douglas,  with  a  sudden  welling  of 
pity  to  his  throat,  persuaded  him  to  go  to  bed.  Nor  did 
he,  later,  interfere  with  the  old  preacher's  choice  of  a 
sermon.  There  was  a  deep  conviction  growing  within 
Douglas  that  the  religious  issue  of  the  situation  was 
entirely  beyond  his  own  directing. 

Peter,  however,  had  no  such  conviction  and  he  took 
considerable  pains  to  try  to  get  Fowler  to  go  back  to  the 
subject  of  immortality.  But  the  old  man  had  the  bit 
in  his  teeth  and  there  was  no  holding  him.  The  post- 
office  door  on  Saturday  bore  the  announcement  that  Sun 
day's  sermon  would  be  on  The  Sins  of  Lost  Chief.  Just 
below  the  preacher's  placard  was  an  invitation  from  Jim 
my  Day  for  Lost  Chief  to  attend  his  birthday  dance  on 
Saturday  evening. 

Douglas  told  of  the  invitation  at  the  supper  table. 
Mr.  Fowler  made  no  comment,  but  old  Johnny  said,  "I 
suppose  Scott  will  be  taking  Judith." 

"I  don't  see  why!"  exclaimed  Douglas  suddenly. 

"You're  all  rejus  like  in  the  church  now.  You  ain't 
got  the  time  for  womaning.  Are  you  still  fond  of 
Jude?"  peering  at  Douglas  anxiously. 

"I  guess  you  know  how  I  feel  about  Judith,  Johnny," 
said  Doug  in  a  low  voice. 

"Like  I  used  to  feel  about  her  mother?"  The  old  man 
put  a  hand  on  Doug's  arm. 

Douglas  nodded. 

"And  would  it  break  your  heart  if  Scott  or  any  other 
man  got  her?" 


282     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Douglas  nodded  again,  then  rose.  "I  think  I'll  run 
down  to  see  her  a  minute.  I  won't  be  gone  long." 

Mr.  Fowler  smiled.     "Good  luck  to  you,  boy!" 

"Keep  your  fingers  crossed  for  me,"  said  Doug,  slam 
ming  out  of  the  door. 

Judith  kept  her  finger  in  "Vanity  Fair."  "We  were  all 
going  in  a  crowd,"  she  said.  "You've  been  cutting  us 
a  good  deal  lately.  Why  not  come  in  out  of  the  wet 
and  be  just  one  of  us?" 

"I  want  to  take  you,  myself,"  insisted  Douglas  in  a 
low  voice.  They  were  standing  in  the  kitchen,  with  the 
door  into  the  living-room  closed.  "I  want  you  to  wear 
that  white  dress  with  the  thing-ma- jiggers  on  the  waist 
and  your  hair  all  loose  around  your  face.  And  I'm 
going  to  make  love  to  you  every  minute." 

His  eyes  were  entirely  earnest.  Judith  smiled,  then 
drew  a  sudden  short  breath.  The  color  deepened  in  her 
cheeks,  then  retreated. 

"All  right,  Douglas!     I'll  go  with  you!"  she  said. 

Douglas  looked  at  her  as  if  he  scarcely  believed  the  evi 
dence  of  his  ears.  Then  he  flushed.  "Thank  you, 
Judith,"  he  said.  "Good-night!"  and  he  bolted  into  the 
night. 

On  Saturday  evening,  old  Johnny  was  restless.  "I 
have  a  feeling  like  I  ought  to  sleep  in  the  chapel,"  he 
said. 

"Pshaw !"  exclaimed  Douglas,  who  was  knotting  a 
wonderful  new  blue  neckerchief  around  his  throat. 
"Everybody  will  be  at  the  party.  You  two  keep  each 
other  company  and  have  the  coffee-pot  going  for  me 
when  I  get  home." 

"Charleton  ain't  going  to  be  at  the  party,"  said  Johnny. 
"I  heard  Jimmy  Day  deponing  at  the  post-office  to-day 
that  Charleton  was  still  off  on  a  trip." 


THE  FLAME  IN  THE  VALLEY       283 

Douglas  hesitated  and  looked  at  Mr.  Fowler.  "Go 
along,  Douglas,"  said  the  preacher.  "We'll  bolt  the  door 
and  no  one  is  going  to  bother  us  two  old  men.  You 
can't  sit  over  me  like  a  mother  hen  all  the  time,  you 
know." 

"All  right,"  agreed  Douglas.  "I  suppose  I  do  act  like 
an  old  woman.  I'll  be  home  a  little  after  midnight." 

The  dance  was  in  full  swing  by  the  time  Douglas  and 
Judith  reached  the  hall,  with  all  the  Lost  Chief  familiars 
present  except  Charleton.  Inez  came  with  Scott.  The 
vague  feeling  of  uneasiness  that  Johnny's  report  had 
given  him  did  not  leave  Douglas,  not  even  when  he 
swung  into  his  first  dance  with  Judith.  She  looked  into 
his  eyes  mischievously. 

"This  is  nice,  Doug,  but  is  it  what  you  call  making 
love?" 

Douglas  laughed.  "Give  me  time  to  find  words,  Jude !" 
His  arm  tightened  around  her,  but  his  face  settled  with 
worried  lines. 

"What's  the  matter,  Douglas?"  asked  Judith. 

"I  don't  know.  I  just  have  the  feeling  that  some 
thing  is  going  wrong." 

"It  would  be  a  foolish  feeling  if  Charleton  were  here," 
said  Judith.  "But  ever  since  poor  old  Prince — you 
know — I've  had  the  feeling  that  Charleton  was  just  wait 
ing  for  a  chance  to  hurt  you." 

"Has  he  said  anything  to  you?"  quickly. 

"Of  course  not!  Charleton  is  clever.  Well,  don't  let 
it  spoil  your  evening,  Douglas.  You  knew  you  were 
courting  trouble  when  you  took  the  preacher  in." 

"And  I  sure  have  found  it!"  exclaimed  Douglas  with 
sudden  cheerfulness.  "If  they  don't  hurt  my  old  sky 
pilot,  I  don't  care.  Come  on,  Jude,  a  little  more  pep,  if 
you  please!" 


284     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Judith  chuckled.  "Ah!  perhaps  this  is  your  idea  of 
love  making!" 

"You'll  recognize  it  all  right  when  I  begin,"  said  Doug 
las,  skilfully  steering  Jude  past  his  father,  who  had  been 
visiting  the  pail  in  the  corner  and  was  swinging  Inez 
in  a  wild  fandango  down  the  center  of  the  room. 

Douglas  had  not  the  least  desire  to  dance  with  any  one 
but  Judith,  and  when  she  danced  with  other  men  he 
wandered  uneasily  around  the  room.  About  eleven 
o'clock  he  missed  Scott.  "Where's  Scott  gone?"  he 
asked  Jimmy. 

"O  he  only  stayed  for  the  first  dance!  I  guess  he 
and  Inez  had  a  row." 

Douglas  scowled  thoughtfully  and  wandered  over  to 
the  phonograph,  which  Peter  was  manipulating. 

"Where's  Charleton,  Peter?" 

"He  went  out  after  a  stray  stallion  he  thinks  has 
wandered  up  on  Lost  Chief." 

Douglas  gave  Peter  a  startled  glance.  "Jimmy  Day 
just  said  he'd  gone  into  Mountain  City." 

Peter  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "All  I  know  is  what 
Charleton  told  me  last  Monday."  He  slid  a  new  record 
into  the  machine. 

"Wait  a  moment!"  Douglas  put  his  hand  on  the 
starting-lever.  "Isn't  that  the  telephone  ringing  down 
stairs?" 

Peter  listened;  then  nodded. 

"I'll  answer  it!"  exclaimed  Douglas. 

He  dashed  downstairs  and  jerked  the  receiver  off  the 
hook.  "I  want  Doug!  I  gotta  depone  to  Doug,"  came 
a  breathless  old  voice  over  the  wire. 

"Yes,  Johnny,  here  I  am!     Where  are  you?" 

"At  Mary's.     They  got  the  preacher,  Doug!" 


THE  FLAME  IN  THE  VALLEY        285 

"Who?  Be  cool  now,  Johnny,  and  help  me.  Who 
did  it?" 

"Two  men.  They  had  things  over  their  faces  and 
they  were  loco  and  they  never — never — "  Johnny's 
voice  trailed  into  an  incoherent  muttering. 

Douglas  jammed  up  the  receiver  and  leaped  back  up 
the  stairs.  He  spoke  hurriedly  to  Peter.  "They've  got 
the  preacher.  I  can't  get  sense  out  of  Johnny.  You 
take  care  of  Jude." 

He  jerked  on  his  mackinaw  and  darted  for  the  door. 
Peter  followed  him  into  the  cold  starlight. 

"Wait  a  moment,  Doug.  You'd  better  let  me  give 
a  general  alarm." 

"Maybe  they're  all  in  on  it!"  Douglas  paused  with 
his  hand  on  the  pommel  of  his  saddle.  Then  he  gave 
a  hoarse  cry,  pointing  as  he  did  so  at  Dead  Line  Peak. 
"Peter!  There's  a  fire  up  there!" 

He  leaped  into  the  saddle  and  drove  the  spurs  home. 
The  Moose  broke  into  a  gallop.  A  moment  later  there 
were  shouts  on  the  trail  behind  him. 

"Keep  going,  old  trapper!  The  birthday  party  is  with 
you!"  roared  Jimmy  Day. 

Douglas  did  not  reply.  He  saw  the  flames  leap  higher 
as  he  covered  the  miles.  He  felt  rage  mounting  swiftly 
within  him,  rage  that  was  akin  to  what  he  had  felt  over 
the  shooting  of  old  Prince,  but  a  thousand  times  more 
poignant.  But  he  handled  the  old  Moose  coolly.  Up 
the  ever- rising  trail,  between  drifted  fences,  up  and  up, 
with  the  Moose  groaning  for  breath,  until  the  quivering 
aspens  showed  clear  and  black  against  the  leaping  flames. 

He  threw  himself  from  his  horse,  conscious  now  of 
a  confusion  of  voices  behind  him,  of  dogs  barking,  horses 
groaning  and  squealing,  and  coyotes  shrieking  excitedly 


286     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

from  the  blue  spruce  thicket  behind  the  corral.  The 
cabin  and  the  chapel  were  in  full  flame.  Old  Johnny 
limped  up  to  Douglas.  Douglas  put  a  gentle  hand  on  the 
quivering  old  shoulder. 

"Johnny,  when  did  they  come?" 

"Right  soon." 

"You  mean  after  I  had  gone." 

"Yes.  They  broke  the  window  out.  I  knew  it  would 
happen.  This  is  an  awful  gregus  bad  valley." 

"Steady  now,  old  boy!     Did  they  hurt  the  sky  pilot?" 

"No.  They  tied  him  up  and  took  him  away.  Then 
I  rode  down  to  telephone  and  they  burned  it." 

"Who  was  it,  Johnny?" 

"I  don't  know7  but  I  depone  it  was  Scott  and  Charleton. 
They  never  spoke  but  I  depone  it.  Like  it  was  Charleton 
and  John  tied  me  to  the  mule  and  that  was  how." 

"Steady,  Johnny!     Which  way  did  they  go?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  was  riding  down  to  Mary.  I  knew 
Mary—" 

"Steady,  Johnny."  Douglas  looked  up  at  the  circle 
of  faces. 

"Is  there  anybody  friendly  enough  here,  if  they  knew 
who  did  this,  to  tell  me?" 

There  was  no  reply,  and  Peter  said,  "I  don't  think  if 
it  was  Scott  and  Charleton  working  together,  they'd 
confide  in  anybody!" 

There  was  a  murmur  of  assent.  Douglas  stood,  the 
kind  hand  still  on  Johnny's  shoulder,  drawing  long  shud 
dering  breaths. 

"If  they  hurt  my  old  sky  pilot,"  he  said,  "God  pity 
'em,  for  I  sha'n't.  Are  any  of  you  folks  going  to  help 
me  organize  a  hunt  for  him?" 

"How  do  you  know  the  two  old  fools  didn't  set  fire 
to  it  themselves?"  demanded  John  thickly.  "The  sky 


THE  FLAME  IN  THE  VALLEY        287 

pilot  was  in  bad  and  that  would  be  a  good  way  out." 

Douglas  swung  himself  up  on  the  Moose.  In  the 
vivid  light  his  lips  were  twisted  contemptuously. 

"Glad  to  help  you  out  personally  any  way,  Doug!" 
exclaimed  Jimmy  Day.  "But  you'd  better  let  the  sky 
pilot  go.  They  ain't  going  to  hurt  him.  You've  been 
the  church  buildingest  damn  fool  in  the  Rockies." 

"Speak  for  yourself,  Jimmy!"  cried  Peter.  "I'm  with 
you,  Doug." 

"And  so  am  I!"  exclaimed  Judith.  "This  is  the 
rottenest  trick  ever  sprung  in  Lost  Chief!" 

"You  will  not  stir  a  step  after  the  preacher,  miss!" 
roared  John. 

Douglas  stood  in  the  stirrups  facing  his  old  friends  and 
neighbors.  But  words  failed  him.  He  spurred  the 
Moose  out  onto  the  trail. 

Peter  urged  his  horse  up  beside  the  Moose.  "Where 
are  you  heading  for,  Doug?  You  mustn't  go  off  half- 
cocked." 

"I'm  going  down  to  Inez'  place  and  see  if  I  can  sweat 
the  truth  out  of  her." 

"It's  a  slim  chance!" 

"I  don't  think  so !  It's  too  dark  to  follow  tracks  now, 
and  you  can  bet  they've  covered  themselves  well,  anyhow. 
I  have  a  feeling  that  Inez  knows.  She  must  have  been 
willing  to  murder  the  sky  pilot  after  his  sermon.  If 
we  don't  get  anything  out  of  her  by  dawn,  we'll  get  Frank 
Day  and  start.  I  know  I  can  count  on  him." 

"Well,  perhaps  you're  right.  Inez  has  been  venomous 
about  this  and  I  can't  say  that  I  blame  her.  Easy  now, 
Doug.  The  Moose  is  about  all  in." 

Douglas  grunted  and  the  way  to  Inez'  house  was 
covered  in  silence.  Douglas  had  no  sense  of  confusion, 
nor  of  defeat.  He  was  angry,  but  svith  his  anger  was 


288     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

a  lust  for  battle  and  an  exultation  in  the  opportunity  for 
it  that  smacked  almost  of  joy.  I'll  get  him  back,  he  told 
himself,  and  I'll  rebuild  the  chapel  and  I'll  punish  Charle- 
ton  and  Scott.  Maybe  I  am  nothing  but  a  rancher  a 
thousand  miles  from  anywhere  but  no  old  crusader  ever 
fought  for  the  grail  harder  than  I'm  going  to  fight  for 
my  little  old  sky  pilot.  And  if  they  hurt  him — !  Old 
Moose  groaned  as  Douglas  involuntarily  thrust  the  spurs 
home. 

There  was  a  light  in  the  kitchen  of  the  Rodman  ranch 
house.  Douglas  banged  on  the  door,  and  when  Inez 
called,  he  strode  in,  followed  by  Peter.  Inez  was  sitting 
before  the  stove,  on  which  a  coffee-pot  simmered.  Scott 
Parsons  stood  beside  the  fire,  coffee-cup  in  hand.  Doug 
las  helped  himself  to  a  chair  and  Peter  imitated  him. 

"You  folks  didn't  come  up  to  my  fire,"  said  Doug. 

Inez,  who  had  followed  his  movements  intently,  smiled 
sardonically.  "Did  you  expect  either  of  us?" 

"Not  exactly.  I  didn't  expect  to  see  Scott  here,  either. 
It  was  rumored  that  you'd  had  a  quarrel  and  that  was 
why  you  left  the  party  early." 

Inez  shrugged  her  shoulders.     "Where's  Judith?" 

"She's  probably  helping  old  Johnny  up  at  my  place. 
There  didn't  seem  to  be  anybody  else  likely  to  stay,  after 
the  fireworks." 

"And  what  are  you  and  Peter  doing  down  here  at  a 
time  like  this?"  asked  Inez,  looking  at  the  postmaster 
as  she  spoke. 

"I  was  going  to  get  you  to  tell  me  what  Scott  and 
Charleton  had  told  you  about  this  partnership  affair  of 
theirs.  But  as  long  as  Scott  is  here,  I'll  just  sweat  it  out 
of  him." 

Scott  laughed. 

"What  makes  you  think  I  know  anything  about  it?" 


THE  FLAME  IN  THE  VALLEY        289 

"You  have  cause  to  hate  the  preacher  more  than  any 
one,"  replied  Douglas  simply. 

Inez'  chin  came  up  proudly.  "I'm  glad  you  realize 
that!"  she  exclaimed. 

"But  it's  not  exactly  evidence,"  said  Scott  suddenly, 
"that  Charleton  and  I  had  anything  to  do  with  the  affair." 

"No,  nor,  if  they  did  put  over  the  job,  that  I  knew 
about  it,"  added  Inez. 

"Which  job  do  you  refer  to?"  asked  Peter. 

"Running  the  preacher,"  replied  Inez. 

"But  how  did  you  happen  to  know  he  had  been  run?" 
Peter's  eyes  were  half  shut.  "You  came  home  early 
and.  didn't  go  up  to  the  fire." 

Inez  bit  her  lip.  Peter  smiled  grimly,  his  long,  sallow 
face  wearier  than  ever  in  the  lamplight.  "You  aren't 
the  kind  to  get  away  with  a  plot,  Inez.  Leave  that  to 
Charleton." 

"No  reason  why  some  one  couldn't  have  telephoned, 
is  there?"  demanded  Scott. 

"No  reason  at  all,"  replied  Peter,  "except  that  Inez' 
phone  has  been  out  of  order  for  a  week  and  I  promised 
to  come  up  to-morrow  and  fix  it  for  her." 

"I  didn't  think,"  said  Douglas,  "that  you  were  the 
kind  to  get  mixed  up  in  a  rough  deal  like  this,  Inez.  I'll 
admit  that  Fowler's  sermon  was  raw  and  all  that,  but 
still  you  are  no  hand  to  blink  facts.  Didn't  you  have 
it  coming  to  you?*' 

Inez'  lip  twitched.  She  looked  from  one  man  to  the 
other,  finally  focussing  on  Peter. 

"Did  I?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,  you  did,"  he  answered.  "You've  got  to  lay  the 
blame  finally  on  the  women.  Otherwise  civilization 
would  cease." 

"Oh,    forget    it!"    growled    Scott.     "What    are    you 


2go     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

dragging  Inez  in  on  this  for?  She's  always  been  a 
good  friend  to  you,  Peter." 

"I  like  Inez,"  said  Peter  slowly,  "but  no  one  is  a  good 
friend  of  mine  who  is  bucking  against  Douglas  in  this 
stunt  he's  at  himself.  Douglas  is  easily  the  coming  man 
of  this  valley  and  if  I'm  not  mistaken,  of  this  State,  and 
I'm  back  of  him,  boots,  spurs  and  saddle." 

Douglas  flushed  and  twisted  uneasily  in  his  chair. 

Scott  sneered,  inaudibly.  Inez  stared  at  Douglas, 
nostrils  quivering  slightly.  "I've  always  admired  Doug," 
she  spoke  coolly,  "but  it  wasn't  playing  the  game  for  him 
to  let  the  preacher  attack  me  and  I'll  never  forgive  him 
for  it." 

"I'll  never  ask  you  to!"  exclaimed  Douglas  cheerfully. 
"And  I'm  not  going  to  start  a  debate  with  you.  I  know 
that  Charleton  and  Scott  put  over  this  deal  and  that 
you  knew  about  it." 

"I'm  going  to  make  just  one  statement."  Inez  was 
looking  again  at  Peter.  "I  think  whoever  set  fire  to  your 
place,  Douglas,  was  a  fool  and  a  crook." 

Scott  buttoned  up  his  mackinaw.  "Well,  I'll  be  riding. 
I'm  a  long  way  from  home." 

Douglas  stretched  his  right  arm  along  the  table.  His 
six-shooter  was  in  his  hand.  "Don't  hurry  away,  old- 
timer!  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

Scott  stood  rigidly,  a  forefinger  in  a  buttonhole. 
"Don't  get  funny,  Doug.  This  ain't  a  sheep-herder's 
war." 

"No,  it's  more  serious  than  that,"  agreed  Douglas. 
"You  don't  get  the  idea,  Scott.  You  can't  run  the 
preacher  out  of  the  Valley,  because  I  shall  keep  bringing 
him  back.  You  can't  burn  down  my  chapel,  because  I 
shall  keep  building  it  up.  Now,  you  tell  me  what  you 


THE  FLAME  IN  THE  VALLEY        291 

know  about  this  man,  because  I  don't  calculate  to  let  you 
eat,  drink,  or  sleep  until  you  do  tell." 

"You  must  think  I'm  a  tenderfoot !  Inez,  you  open 
that  door  into  the  yard." 

"Peter,  you  engage  Inez'  attention,  will  you?"  asked 
Douglas  in  his  gentle  voice.  "Now  then,  Scott,  where 
is  Fowler?'' 

Peter  moved  his  chair  over  beside  Inez.  Scott  made 
a  wry  face. 

"I  ain't  his  herder.  That's  your  job.  But  you've 
sure  lost  him  on  the  range,  Doug.  A  religious  round 
up  ain't  what  you  thought  it  was,  huh?" 

"Just  keep  both  hands  in  the  buttonholes.  That's 
right,  Scott.  Now  when  you  get  ready  to  tell  daddy 
all  your  little  sins,  speak  right  up." 

"Look  here,  Doug,  don't  you  start  any  shooting  in 
my  house.  I  never  have  had  any  trouble  here  and  I'm 
not  going  to  begin  now.  You'll  never  get  anything  out 
of  Scott,  this  way.  You  let  him  go." 

Peter  took  Inez'  hand.  "My  dear  girl,  you'd  better 
keep  out  of  this.  Douglas  is  a  right  nervous  rider, 
to-night." 

Inez  attempted  to  free  her  hand.  Peter  smiled.  "You 
can't  be  my  friend  and  Scott's  too,  you  know." 

"I  don't  want  to  be  your  friend!"  panted  Inez. 

"Don't  you?"  asked  Peter,  looking  at  her  through 
half-closed  eyes.  "Why  not,  Inez?" 

Douglas,  intrigued  in  spite  of  himself  by  this  half- 
whispered  conversation,  glanced  toward  Inez.  Instantly, 
Scott  thrust  the  table  against  him  and  leaped  toward  the 
door.  But  Doug  thrust  out  a  spurred  boot  and  the  two 
young  riders  went  down  among  the  table  legs.  Inez 
twisted  in  Peter's  grasp,  but  he. pinioned  both  of  her 


292     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

hands  and  watched  the  struggle  anxiously.  Suddenly 
he  saw  Douglas  drive  his  knee  violently  into  Scott's 
groin.  Scott  groaned  and  went  limp.  Douglas  got  to 
his  knees  and  tied  Scott's  hands  together  with  his  own 
neckerchief.  Then  he  dragged  Scott  to  a  sitting  position 
against  the  wall  and  again  covered  him  with  his  gan 
Slowly  the  agony  receded  from  Scott's  face. 

"Where's  the  preacher?"  demanded  Douglas. 

Scott  did  not  answer. 

"I'm  going  to  stay  here  till  dawn,"  said  Doug.  "If 
you  don't  see  fit  to  answer  by  then,  you'll  start  on  the 
hunt  with  me.  Think  it  over." 

Peter,  both  of  Inez'  wrists  in  one  of  his  long,  power 
ful  hands,  put  fresh  wood  on  the  fire,  then  sat  down 
again.  Inez  leaned  against  him,  breathing  unevenly. 
For  a  long  time,  no  one  spoke.  Douglas,  the  sense  of 
exultation  still  upon  him,  lighted  cigarette  after  cigarette 
and  waited  patiently.  How  long  a  time  went  by  he  did 
not  trouble  himself  to  note,  though  he  believed  dawn 
could  not  be  far  distant. 

The  silence  was  broken  by  the  galloping  of  a  horse 
up  to  the  door.  A  moment  later,  Mary  Spencer  burst 
into  the  kitchen.  She  was  wind-blown  and  wild-eyed. 
Her  coat  was  open.  Her  head  was  bare. 

"Is  Judith  here?"  she  cried,  without  appearing  to 
observe  the  peculiar  postures  of  the  inmates  of  the 
kitchen. 

"No!"  exclaimed  Inez.     "What's  happened?" 

Douglas  looked  at  his  mother  with  startled  eyes.  "I 
don't  know!"  cried  Mary,  bursting  into  tears. 

Douglas  tore  down  the  roller-towel  and  tossed  it  to 
Peter. 

"Tie  up  Scott's  ankles.     Inez  won't  bother!" 

Inez,  indeed,  was  giving  no  heed  to  the  men.     She 


THE  FLAME  IN  THE  VALLEY        293 

ran  over  to  Mary.  "For  heaven's  sake,  what's 
happened?" 

Mary  wiped  her  eyes  and  fought  to  speak  calmly. 
"Up  at  the  fire  she  insisted  that  she  was  going  out  to 
help  find  the  preacher.  John  had  been  drinking  and 
he  argued  with  her,  and  followed  her  down  the  trail. 
They  quarrel  so  much  I  didn't  think  anything  of  it.  I 
stayed  a  long  while  up  at  the  fire  with  the  others.  Then 
I  went  home.  I  noticed  when  I  turned  old  Beauty  into 
the  corral  that  it  was  empty,  and  I  was  surprised.  I 
hadn't  thought  Judith  would  start  out  till  daylight.  I 
rushed  into  the  house.  The  living-room  table  had  been 
tipped  over  and  the  chairs  pulled  round.  I  telephoned 
everywhere,  but  nobody  had  seen  her.  And  this  'phone 
wouldn't  answer.  Old  Johnny  came  down  and  he  rode 
toward  the  post-office  and  I  came  here." 

Douglas  started  for  the  door. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  Peter. 

"After  Judith!" 

"What  about  Scott  and  the  preacher?" 

Douglas  turned  to  face  the  others,  his  lips  white,  his 
eyes  burning.  "What  do  I  care  about  them,  when 
Judith  is  in  question!" 

"You  go  ahead,  Doug!"  cried  Inez.  "Don't  wait  for 
anything.  Judith's  been  talking  about  running  away 
for  years,  but  she  never  planned  to  go  off  in  the  winter, 
I  can  tell  you  that." 

"John  had  been  drinking,  you  must  remember,"  half- 
sobbed  Mary.  "He's  always  so  ugly  then." 

Douglas  rushed  out  of  the  door.  Peter  followed  him. 
"I'm  going  up  to  the  old  ranch  and  see  if  I  can  pick  up 
their  trail.  I  need  another  horse.  My  corral  is  cleared 
out  and  Dad's  is  too.  But  I — O,  Peter!"  Douglas' 
voice  broke. 


294     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"Keep  your  nerve  up,  Douglas.     I've  got  a  couple  of 

horses  in  fair  condition  down  at  my  place.     We'll  ride 

there  after  we  look  over  things  at  your  father's  ranch." 

They  hardly  had  cleared  the  corral  when  Mary  overtook 
them.  She  was  still  crying,  but  except  for  her  sobs  they 
rode  in  a  heavy  silence  to  the  ranch  house. 

Old  Johnny  was  gone.  They  found  a  curious  note  on 
the  kitchen  table.  "Going  after  Jud  for  Douglas.  J.  B." 

"She's  started  for  Mountain  City,  I'm  certain,"  said 
Mary.  "She's  been  terribly  uneasy  ever  since  Doug  left 
home,  always  saying  a  girl  had  no  chance  to  make  any 
thing  of  herself  here.  It  would  be  exactly  like  her  to 
lose  her  temper  and  start  off,  hard  pelt  on  that  hundred- 
mile  ride  with  no  preparations  at  all." 

"That's  not  what  worries  me,"  said  Peter.  "It's  John 
when  he's  drunk." 

"It's  light  enough  to  start!"  exclaimed  Douglas. 
"Mother,  you  give  us  some  breakfast.  Let's  roll  up 
some  blankets  and  take  some  grub  and  get  gone,  Peter." 

In  little  more  than  a  half -hour  they  were  on  the  trail. 
And  all  the  exultation  which  had  carried  Douglas  through 
the  night  had  fled,  leaving  him  with  the  sense  of  impend 
ing  calamity  that  had  spoiled  the  dance  for  him.  And 
he  knew  now  that  it  had  been  a  well-founded  prescience. 
A  door  had  closed  behind  him,  forever,  and,  with  horror 
in  his  heart,  he  was  facing  a  void.  For  something  had 
gone  wrong  with  Judith.  And  Judith  was  his  life. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  TRAIL  OVER  THE  PASS 

Some  riders'  spurs  are  the  lightest  when  their  hearts 
are  the  heaviest." 

— The  Moose. 

IT  was  a  clear  day,  but  in  the  increasing  light,  white 
clouds  could  be  seen  whirling  from  the  crest  of  Lost 
Chief. 

"Lost  Chief  is  making  snow,  but  we  won't  get  it  before 
evening,"  said  Peter,  as  they  dismounted  at  the  post-office 
corral.  "Now  we'll  just  outfit  for  a  couple  of  days.  I'm 
believing  we'll  overtake  one  or  both  before  night,  but 
you  can't  tell.  If  Jude  was  crazy  enough  to  run  away 
in  zero  weather,  she's  crazy  enough  to  have  taken  any 
kind  of  a  risk  and  to  be  paying  for  it." 

Douglas  went  swiftly  and  silently  to  work.  The  sun 
was  just  pushing  over  the  Indian  Range  when,  each 
leading  a  pack-horse,  they  crossed  Lost  Chief  Creek  and 
started  up  the  long  climb  to  the  Pass.  Here  the  wind 
was  rising  and  dry  snow  sifted  constantly  across  the 
trail,  obliterating  any  trace  of  hoofs  that  might  have 
been  there.  It  was  slow  going,  too,  for  there  had  been 
much  snow  on  the  Pass  and  the  drifts  were  frequent  and 
deep.  Douglas  was  extremely  sparing  of  his  mount. 
Nothing  that  he  could  do  should  interfere  with  his 
efficiency  in  the  search,  and  although  his  mad  desire  bade 
him  rowell  the  straining  brute,  he  rode  light  of  heel, 
resting  at  frequent  enough  intervals  to  satisfy  even  Peter's 
large  ideas  of  what  was  owing  to  a  horse. 

295 


296     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

It  was  not  until  they  were  half-way  to  the  summit, 
pushing  between  towering  jade  green  walls,  where  the 
wind  was  excluded,  that  Douglas  suddenly  pulled  up. 
The  snow  was  level  and  hard-packed.  There  were  hoof 
and  wheel  marks,  leading  south.  Friday's  mail  stage. 
A  number  of  hoof  marks  leading  north.  The  two  men 
dismounted  and  for  many  minutes  studied  these. 

"Here!"  exclaimed  Peter  at  last.  "Four  horses  in  a 
walk,  up  to  this  point.  Here,  they  break  into  a  trot; 
and  this  is  old  Johnny  on  Jingo,  and  that  is  the  Wolf 
Cub. 

"Easy,  Doug !  Don't  kill  the  horses.  It's  only  a  guess 
you  are  following." 

Douglas  grunted  impatiently  and  set  his  horse,  Justus, 
to  the  trot.  At  the  summit,  still  following  trail,  they 
pulled  up  to  breathe  the  horses,  then  plunged  downward. 
Half  through  the  afternoon  they  followed  the  hoof  marks. 
The  biting  wind  rose  and  the  sun  warmed  their  backs 
as  they  crested  the  ridges.  The  wind  fell  and  the  sun 
darkened  as  they  dropped  into  the  valleys.  Eagles  on 
the  hunt  hung  watchfully  in  the  sky.  Coyotes  now  and 
again  sneaked  across  the  trail  before  them.  The  two 
men  threshed  their  arms  across  their  chests  or  dropped 
their  aching  feet  from  the  stirrups,  and  still  the  hoof 
marks  of  five  horses  led  on  before  them. 

Their  shadows  had  grown  long  and  blue-black  on  the 
trail  before  them  when  suddenly  Douglas  pulled  Justus 
up,  and  Peter  pushed  up  beside  him.  About  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  farther  oh  lay  the  half-way  house.  They  were 
crossing  a  broad,  flat  valley  into  which  the  trail  dipped 
lazily.  Just  before  them,  the  tracks  of  two  horses  and 
a  dog  led  sharply  to  the  left  and  disappeared.  Some 
one  had  fallen.  There  was  a  confusion  of  tracks,  then 
a  two-horse  trail  led  on  toward  the  half-way  house. 


THE  TRAIL  OVER  THE  PASS         297 

Without  a  word,  they  «put  their  horses  to  a  gallop  that 
did  not  ease  until  they  pulled  in  at  the  little  log  corral  of 
the  half-way  house.  There  were  two  horses,  John's  and 
old  Johnny's,  in  the  shed. 

Crumpled  on  the  doorstep  was  old  Johnny,  Doug's  shot 
gun  across  his  knees,  at  first  glance,  sound  asleep.  It 
was  bitter  cold.  Douglas  and  Peter  pounded  their 
numbed  fingers,  then  examined  the  little  old  cowman. 
He  was,  indeed,  asleep,  but  is  was  the  sleep  that  knows  no 
waking. 

"I  thought  he  knew  better  than  this,"  said  Douglas, 
pitifully. 

"He  hadn't  any  outside  clothes  on."  Peter  fingered  the 
cotton  jumper.  "Had  a  sudden  thought  and  went  off  as 
crazy  as  Jude.  Let's  lift  him  into  the  house." 

They  opened  the  door.  On  the  floor  beside  the  stove 
lay  John,  his  right  leg  bloody.  They  laid  old  Johnny 
carefully  against  the  wall.  Douglas  stood  rigidly  staring 
at  his  father.  Peter  hurriedly  lifted  the  wounded  man's 
hands,  then  forced  some  whiskey  down  his  throat. 

"Start  a  fire,  Doug!"  he  ordered. 

Douglas  did  not  stir.  He  stood,  blue  eyes  haggard, 
cheeks  frost-burned,  staring  at  his  father.  John  opened 
his  eyes. 

"Get  my  right  boot  off,  for  God's  sake !"  he  said  faintly. 

"Wait!"  said  Douglas  peremptorily,  when  Peter  would 
have  obeyed.  "Give  him  some  more  whiskey  so  I  can 
hear  the  story  and  be  off.  Those  were  Judith's  tracks 
back  there." 

"The  pain  is  killing  me !"  protested  John. 

"Where  is  Judith?  Have  you  hurt  her?"  demanded 
Doug. 

Peter  applied  his  flask  again  to  John's  mouth.  John 
drank,  then  groaned.  "I  was  drunk.  Awful  drunk.  If 


298     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Doug  hadn't  been  so  crazy  about  the  preacher  he'd  have 
seen  that.  Jude  went  down  to  the  house  to  get  some  warm 
things  while  she  hunted  for  the  preacher.  I  followed  her. 
The  house  was  warm  and  got  me  even  more  fuddled  than 
I  was.  I  don't  know  what  I  said  but  she  came  at  me 
like  a  wild  cat.  Then  she  ran  out  of  the  house  and  me 
after  her.  I  never  touched  her.  I  never  saw  such  riding. 
I  could  just  keep  her  in  sight,  and  it  wasn't  till  daylight 
that  I  came  up  to  her  in  this  valley.  After  I  sobered  up  I 
kept  yelling  at  her,  trying  to  explain.  But  she  didn't  even 
turn  her  head.  Then  I  rode  my  horse  round  in  front 
of  her  and  she  turned  that  devilish  little  wild  mare  loose 
on  me,  kicking  and  biting  my  horse  like  a  stallion.  In 
the  middle  of  the  mix-up,  that  blank  old  fool  of  a  Johnny 
gallops  up,  half-dressed  and  shooting  in  every  direction. 
Jude  she  takes  off  up  the  valley  and  Johnny  gave  me  this 
leg  when  I  tried  to  follow.  I  got  up  here,  him  following 
me,  and  the  fool  wouldn't  help  me.  Just  sat  guard  outside 
the  door.  I  kept  telling  him  he'd  freeze  to  death.  He 
kept  saying  he  was  saving  Jude  far  Douglas."  John 
ended  with  another  groan. 

Douglas  stood  clenching  and  unclenching  his  gloved 
hands.  Suddenly  he  turned  on  his  heel.  "Come  on, 
Peter." 

"We  can't  leave  your  father  this  way,  Doug." 

"Come  on,  I  tell  you!"  Doug's  low  voice  was  as  hard 
as  his  eyes. 

"Wait!"  cried  Peter. 

"Wait!  Wait!  While  Judith  freezes  to  death  too!" 
exclaimed  Douglas. 

"She  couldn't  freeze  to  death.  She's  too  mad!" 
groaned  John. 

"An  hour  won't  make  any  difference,"  urged  Peter. 
"I  guess  Jude  had  this  thing  planned  out." 


THE  TRAIL  OVER  THE  PASS         299 

"Planned !"  Douglas'  blue  eyes  burned.  "She's  gone 
off  her  head  with  anger  and  disgust  and  she  doesn't  care 
where  she  goes  as  long  as  she's  rid  of  him.  I  know 
Jude!" 

"You  don't  know  Jude!"  contradicted  Peter.  "Help 
me  to  lift  John  to  the  bunk.  He's  got  to  be  taken  care  of.'' 

Douglas  turned  on  his  heel,  took  a  quilt  from  the  bunk 
and  laid  it  over  old  Johnny,  gray  and  silent  against 
the  wall.  Then  without  a  word,  he  lifted  the  door- 
latch. 

"Don't  forget  that  this  is  your  father  after  all." 

"But  I  have  forgotten!"  returned  Douglas  clearly. 

"Stop  that  kind  of  talk,"  said  Peter  sharply,  "and  help 
me  get  his  boot  off!" 

Douglas  gave  Peter  a  long  stare  of  resentment;  then, 
without  a  word,  he  rushed  out  of  the  cabin.  He  watered 
the  horses,  mounted  Justus,  and  took  the  lead  rope  of  his 
pack-animal,  putting  both  horses  to  the  gallop.  When  he 
reached  the  point  where  Judith  had  left  the  main  trail  he 
turned  and  followed  her  tracks,  which  were  rapidly  drift 
ing  over  with  snow. 

The  whole  world  was  white.  Lifting  from  the  valley 
to  the  right,  little  hills  rolled  over  into  one  another  like 
foaming  billows.  Beyond  these  were  distant  ranges  blue, 
white,  and  gold.  Judith's  trail  led  along  the  base  of  the 
little  hills  into  a  grove  of  Lebanon  cedars,  gnarled  and 
wind-distorted.  There  was  little  snow  among  the  trees 
and  so  for  a  while  the  trail  was  lost.  But  when  the  cedars 
opened  out  on  a  circular  mesa  where  the  snow  was  taking 
on  the  saffron  tints  of  the  evening  sky,  he  picked  it  up 
again. 

The  mesa  ended  abruptly  in  a  drifted  mountain, 
opalescent  pink  from  its  foot  to  its  cone-shaped  head. 
The  snow  on  the  mesa  was  not  deep,  and  Douglas  realized 


300     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

that  Judith  had  followed  an  old  trapper's  trail  that  worked 
south  toward  Lost  Chief  Peak. 

By  the  time  Doug  reached  the  foot  of  the  mountain 
it  was  so  dark  that  he  barely  could  discern  that  Judith 
had  circled  to  the  right,  around  the  base  of  the  peak. 
There  would  be  a  moon  a  little  later.  Douglas  dis 
mounted  in  the  shelter  of  a  huge  rock,  cut  down  a  small 
cedar,  and  made  himself  a  fire  and  cooked  some  coffee. 
And  he  fed  the  horses. 

He  sat  for  an  hour  over  the  fire,  waiting  for  the 
moon.  He  was  not  conscious  of  weariness.  He  was 
not  thinking.  It  was  as  if  there  had  been  no  burning  of 
his  ranch,  no  preacher,  no  old  Johnny.  His  whole  mind 
was  focussed  on  finding  Judith.  On  finding  her  and 
somehow  ending  the  intolerable  uncertainty  and  longing 
which  he  had  endured  for  so  many  years. 

The  threatened  snow  thus  far  had  held  off.  If  the 
clear  weather  would  hold  for  another  twelve  hours,  he 
was  sure  that  he  could  overtake  her.  He  was  impatient 
of  delay  and  watched  restlessly  for  the  moon.  Shortly 
after  seven  o'clock  it  sailed  over  the  mountain,  flooding 
the  world  with  a  light  so  intense  and  pure  that  the  unbe 
lievable  colors  of  the  daytime  returned  like  prismatic 
ghosts. 

Douglas  mounted  and  slowly  and  carefully  followed 
the  trail  around  the  mountain.  He  found  the  spot  where 
Judith  had  made  a  fire.  He  paused  over  a  drift  where 
one  of  her  horses  had  floundered.  He  urged  his  tired 
horses  to  a  trot  where  Judith  had  followed  a  beaten 
coyote  trail  along  a  hidden  brook.  Hours  of  this,  and 
then — a  thickening  cloud  across  the  moon  and  a  sudden 
thickening  blast  of  snow  in  his  face.  He  had  been  fear 
ing  this  all  day,  yet  the  moon  had  risen  so  clearly  that 
his  fears  had  been  lulled.  He  pushed  on  as  long  as  he 


THE  TRAIL  OVER  THE  PASS         301 

could  distinguish  the  trail.  Then,  with  a  groan,  he  pulled 
up  beside  a  clump  of  bushes.  The  horses  sighed  grate 
fully.  Justus'  shoulders  were  quivering  with  fatigue. 

Douglas  unsaddled  the  horses  and  hobbled  them;  then 
he  shoveled  snow  away  from  beneath  some  of  the  bushes 
and  made  a  rough  shelter  over  the  open  space  with  a 
blanket.  He  built  a  fire,  crept  under  his  rude  canopy, 
and  rolled  himself  in  many  blankets.  He  was  very,  very 
tired,  and  after  a  time  he  dropped  miles  deep  into  slumber. 

It  was  gray  dawn  when  he  awoke  and  he  was  snug 
beneath  a  foot  of  snow  that  had  blown  over  his  bed-cover 
ing.  He  crawled  out  stiffly  and  made  a  fire.  Then  he 
fed  the  horses  and  ate  his  breakfast,  examining  the  land 
scape  as  he  did  so. 

Lost  Chief  Range  rose  to  the  left.  To  the  right  lay 
a  broad  mesa  cut  by  impassable  canyons.  Far  to  the 
south  and  to  the  right  lifted  Black  Devil  Range,  forming, 
with  Lost  Chief,  a  deep  valley,  the  valley  in  which  Elijah 
Nelson  had  settled.  From  Douglas'  camp,  the  valley 
was  almost  inaccessible :  almost,  but  not  quite.  Just 
under  the  crest  of  Black  Devil  Peak  lay  a  pass.  If  this 
could  be  crossed  one  dropped  southward  into  a  cup- 
shaped  valley  called  Johnson's  Basin.  Beyond  the  basin 
a  lesser  pass  into  sheep  country,  and  thence  still  south  to 
the  railroad  and  the  whole  wide  world. 

Black  Devil  Pass  was  used  in  summer  but  only  by  sea 
soned  hunters  and  cattle-men.  In  winter,  it  was  closed 
by  snow  and  ice.  Yet  now,  Douglas  was  convinced  that, 
unless  big  snows  had  stopped  her,  Judith  \vas  attempting 
that  perilous  passage.  She  was  by  now  cooled  down ;  she 
would  not  turn  back.  Pride,  resentment,  restlessness, 
and  that  virile  love  of  adventure  which  only  increased  as 
she  grew  older,  would  urge  her  on  and  on.  And  to  cross 
Black  Devil  Pass  in  winter  was  a  feat  which  even  Charle- 


302     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

ton  would  refuse  to  undertake.  Yet,  he  did  not  believe 
that  Judith  would  attempt  such  a  journey  without  care 
fully  outfitting.  And  where  could  she  have  done  this? 
Had  she  foreseen  her  flight  and  cached  food  and  fodder? 
Douglas  shrugged  this  suggestion  aside  as  highly  im 
probable.  But  she  could  have  gone  into  Mormon  Valley 
for  supplies.  It  was  possible  to  reach  Black  Devil  Pass 
from  the  upper  end  of  Mormon  Valley,  possible  in  sum 
mer  at  least.  Possible  also  to  reach  the  Pass  by  swing 
ing  around  to  the  right  of  the  Black  Devil  Range. 

Douglas,  with  a  grim  tightening  of  his  lips,  looked  over 
his  supplies.  Bacon,  coffee,  flour,  matches;  enough  for 
a  week  if  eked  out  by  cottontails  and  porcupines.  But 
the  horses  had  only  a  day's  fodder.  He  remade  the  pack, 
mounted  and  pushed  on  through  the  snows,  which  grew 
deeper  as  the  elevation  increased. 

On  either  hand,  the  two  ranges  flung  mountain  beyond 
mountain,  in  shades  of  jade,  creviced  by  deep  blue  snow. 
The  tiny,  weary  cavalcade  wound  on  and  on  with  not 
a  trace  of  Judith  to  lighten  the  way.  It  was  noon  when 
Douglas  reached  the  forest  which  choked  the  end  of  Mor 
mon  Valley.  He  knew  the  spot.  Nature  first  had 
covered  the  floor  of  the  passage  with  boulders.  Between 
the  boulders,  she  had  planted  the  pine-trees.  The  pine 
had  grown  thick  and  tall  and  had  waxed  old  and  fallen, 
and  other  pines  had  grown  above  the  dead  tree-trunks. 
In  summer,  if  extreme  care  and  patience  were  used,  a 
horse  could  be  led  through  this  chaos.  In  winter,  deep- 
blanketed  with  snow — ! 

Douglas  drew  up  before  the  pines  and  dismounted. 
The  snow  was  waist-deep.  Very  slowly,  he  began  to  pick 
a  winding,  intricate  path  between  the  trees.  He  fell 
many  times  but  he  finally  emerged  into  the  smoother 
floor  of  the  valley.  Then  he  turned  and  followed  his 


THE  TRAIL  OVER  THE  PASS         303 

own  trail  back,  kicking  and  pounding  the  snow  to  make 
better  footing  for  the  horses.  He  took  Justus'  reins 
and  led  him  into  the  trail. 

Horses  hate  the  snow.  These  shied  and  balked, 
stood  trembling  and  uncertain,  shook  their  heads  and 
kicked,  and  Justus  nipped  at  Doug's  shoulder  with  ugly, 
yellow  teeth.  But  he  pulled  them  on  and  by  mid-after 
noon  they  were  in  the  open  valley  with  snow  not  above 
the  animals'  knees.  Gradually  the  Mormon  buck  fences 
appeared,  and,  just  at  dusk,  a  twinkling  light. 

Douglas  rode  up  to  the  cabin  and,  dismounting,  knocked 
at  the  door. 

It  was  opened  by  Elijah  Nelson,  his  big  bulk  silhouet 
ted  in  the  door-frame. 

"Good-evening!"    said  Douglas. 

"Good-evening!"  returned  the  Mormon. 

"Did   Judith    Spencer   come  through  this   way?" 

Nelson  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "I  don't  care  to  hold 
converse  with  any  one  from  Lost  Chief." 

Douglas  moistened  his  wind-fevered  lips.  "I'm  not 
trying  to  hold  converse  with  you.  My  sister  has  run 
away  from  home.  I've  lost  her  trail  and  I'm  scared 
about  her.  I  won't  stop  a  minute  if  you'll  just  answer 
my  question." 

A  woman  pushed  up  beside  Elijah.  "Who  is  it,  Pa? 
For  pity's  sake,  young  man,  come  in!  It's  a  fearful 
cold  night  and  this  open  door  is  freezing  the  whole 
house." 

Elijah  stood  back  and  Douglas  strode  into  the  kitchen. 
Several  children  were  sitting  around  the  supper  table. 
Nelson  repeated  Douglas'  query  to  his  wife,  adding, 
"He's  the  young  man  who  brought  the  preacher  into 
Lost  Chief  and  who  called  me  a  bastard  American." 

The  wroman  stared  at  Douglas.     He  was  haggard  and 


304    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

unshaved.  Nevertheless,  standing,  with  his  broad  shoul 
ders  back,  his  blue  eyes  wide  and  steady  yet  full  of  a 
consuming  anxiety,  his  youth  was  very  appealing. 

"Have  you  been  out  long?"  she  asked. 

"Since  Sunday  dawn." 

"She's  your  sister,  you  say?" 

Douglas  looked  down  at  the  woman.  She  could  not 
have  been  much  over  thirty  and  her  brown  eyes  were 
kindly.  "She's  only  a  foster  sister,"  he  replied,  his  low 
voice  a  little  husky.  "I —  I —  "  he  hesitated,  then  gave 
way  for  a  moment.  "If  I'd  stayed  at  home  as  her  mother 
wanted  me  to,  instead  of  bringing  the  preacher  in,  it 
never  would  have  happened !  Religion !  Look  what  it's 
brought  me  and  Judith!'' 

"Religion  never  brought  anything  but  good  to  any 
one,''  said  Elijah  Nelson.  "It's  religion  now  that  makes 
me  allow  you  within  my  doors." 

Douglas  gave  the  Mormon  a  quick  glance.  Some 
where  back  of  his  anxiety  it  occurred  to  him  that  he 
would  like  to  ask  this  man  some  of  the  questions  that 
had  troubled  him  for  years.  But  now  he  said  urgently 
to  the  woman,  "If  Judith  was  here,  for  God's  sake,  tell 
me!  She  must  not  try  to  cross  Black  Devil  Pass." 

The  woman  turned  to  Elijah.     "Tell  him,  Pa!'' 

Elijah  scratched  his  head,  eying  Douglas  keenly  the 
while.  "Peter  Knight  told  me  something  about  you. 
You  don't  seem  to  have  been  tarred  with  the  same  brush 
as  the  rest  of  the  Gentiles  in  Lost  Chief.  That  isn't 
saying  I  excuse  the  way  you  talked  to  me  up  at  your 
chapel,  but  I  guess  you're  to  be  trusted  as  far  as  wromen 
are  concerned.  The  girl  came  in  here  last  night.  She 
was  pretty  well  tuckered  but  as  mad  as  hops.  She  told 
me  that  Saturday  night  she  had  a  violent  quarrel 
with  John  Spencer  and  that  she  fled  from  home  in  a 


THE  TRAIL  OVER  THE  PASS         305 

burst  of  anger  that  was  still  on  her  when  she  got  here. 
She's  headed  for  the  Pass  and  the  railroad  beyond  and 
nothing  that  I  know  of  can  stop  her.  My  wife  and  I 
did  all  we  could  to  make  her  give  up  the  idea  but  she 
was  sure  she  could  make  it.  And  I  almost  believe  she 
can !  She's  as  strong  as  a  young  mountain  lion :  the  way 
God  intended  women  to  be.  She  stayed  here  all  night 
and  got  away  about  an  hour  before  dawn.  We  outfitted 
her  good.  She  thought  maybe  she  could  make  through 
the  Pass  by  to-night,  but  I  doubt  it.  Snow  is  awful 
deep  up  on  Black  Devil.  We've  been  looking  for  her 
back  all  day." 

Douglas  drew  a  long  breath.  "Thank  you,  Mr.  Nel 
son!"  he  said,  and  started  for  the  door. 

"Wait!  Wait!"  cried  Mrs.  Nelson.  "You  must 
have  some  supper  and  you  must  rest.  You  look  terrible !" 

Douglas  shook  his  head.  "Every  minute  counts.  I'm 
not  tired,  only  terribly  worried.  I  couldn't  rest." 

Nelson  walked  over  to  the  door  deliberately,  and  put 
a  big  hand  on  Doug's  shoulder.  "You  fill  yourself  with 
some  hot  food,  Spencer.  You  know  better  than  to  tackle 
this  job  empty.  That  girl  is  in  a  desperate  frame  of 
mind.  You  are  going  to  have  a  struggle  with  her,  if 
you  do  overtake  her.  You  must  be  cool  and  save  your 
mind  and  body.  How  did  she  come  to  be  in  such  a 
state  of  mind?" 

"She  wasn't  desperate,"  said  Mrs.  Nelson,  unexpect 
edly.  "She  was  sort  of — of  wild.  I  can't  just  find  the 
word  for  it.  But  lots  of  young  women  are  like  that 
now-a-days." 

Douglas  looked  at  her  curiously.  Some  phrase  of 
Peter's,  half  forgotten,  came  back  to  him.  "Revolt,"  he 
muttered.  "Revolt,  that's  it." 

The  woman  nodded.     "Yes,  revolt's  the  word." 


306     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Elijah  shook  Doug's  shoulder.  "How  many  horses 
have  you?" 

"Two." 

"I'll  feed  'em.  Go  sit  down  to  that  table  and  let  my 
wife  fix  you  up." 

Douglas  slowly  pulled  off  his  gloves,  and  his  voice 
broke  boyishly  as  he  said,  "You  folks  are  awful  kind." 

"Yes,  I've  sometimes  suspected  that  us  Mormons  was 
almost  human  beings,"  grunted  Elijah  as  he  pulled  on 
his  mackinaw. 

Doug's  cracked  lips  managed  a  shadow  of  his  old 
whimsical  smile.  Mrs.  Nelson  heaped  his  plate  and  filled 
his  cup  with  scalding  coffee.  Then  she  shooed  the 
children  to  bed  in  the  next  room  and,  returning,  looked 
down  at  Douglas  half  tenderly. 

"She's  a  splendid  big  thing,  that  girl  of  yours.  If 
I  was  a  man  I'd  be  plumb  crazy  about  her.  Has  to 
be  something  fine  in  a  girl  to  go  crazy  mad,  just  the 
way  she  was.  It  wasn't  all  about  your  father.  It  had 
heaped  up  for  years.  Though  undoubtedly  it  was  your 
father  started  her  off  this  weather." 

Elijah  came  in  and  sat  down  to  his  interrupted  meal. 
"Good  horses  you've  got,"  he  said.  "But  you've  worked 
them  hard." 

"Will  you  sell  me  some  oats?"   asked  Douglas. 

Elijah  nodded.  "I'll  fix  you  up.  Do  you  know  how 
to  get  to  the  Pass?" 

"No;   I've  never  crossed,  even  in  summer." 

"Well,  I  can  direct  you,  though  I've  never  made  it 
myself  in  winter.  After  you  get  over  the  Pass  and  into 
the  Basin  it  will  be  easy  going  and  you  can  get  fodder 
there.  A  Mormon  friend  of  mine  is  in  the  Basin  this 
winter  with  sheep.  I  told  Judith  that  and  exactly  how 
to  get  there." 


THE  TRAIL  OVER  THE  PASS         307 

"Was   she  in  bad  trim?"   asked  Douglas  abruptly. 

"No.  A  little  used  up  for  lack  of  sleep,  that  was 
all,"  replied  Elijah. 

Mrs.  Nelson  suddenly  chuckled.  "My,  she  was  mad! 
It  did  me  good  to  see  her." 

Her  husband  looked  at  her  curiously.  "How  was 
that,  Ma?" 

"It's  the  way  I've  wanted  to  feel,  lots  of  times,"  said 
Mrs.  Nelson.  "Go  on  with  your  directions,  Pa.  You 
wouldn't  understand  in  a  hundred  years." 

Elijah  snorted,  then  went  on.  "There's  no  trail. 
But  if  you  reach  the  summit,  get  a  line  on  a  bare  patch 
in  the  middle  of  the  basin,  that's  the  lake,  and  the  highest 
peak  across  the  basin.  It's  got  the  mark  of  a  big  cross 
on  it.  You  can't  miss  it.  If  you  keep  on  this  line,  it 
will  bring  you  out  at  Bowdin's  sheep  ranch.  I  don't 
know  whether  the  snows  are  as  bad  on  the  other  side  of 
Black  Devil  as  they  are  on  this.  Johnson's  Basin  drops 
down  to  about  three  thousand  feet  elevation  and  there's 
not  enough  snow  in  the  basin  itself  to  stop  sheep  graz 
ing.  But  the  climb  down  is  something  awful,  even  in 
summer.  Ma,  you  put  up  a  bundle  of  grub." 

"I've  got  grub  for  a  week,  thanks!"  exclaimed  Doug 
las.  Then  he  asked  Elijah,  hesitatingly,  "Will  you  tell 
me  why  you  are  so  kind  to  me?" 

"As  I  said,  it's  my  religion." 

Douglas  stared  at  his  host's  kindly  face.  "I'm 
dog  sorry,"  he  said,  "for  what  I  called  you.  But,  how 
was  I  to  know?  I've  been  brought  up  to  hate  Mor 
mons." 

Elijah  nodded.  "I  guess  we're  square.  What  kind 
of  a  man  is  Fowler?" 

"I  like  him.  But  I  don't  know  whether  he's  the  man 
for  the  job  I  set  him,  or  not.  But  he's  going  to  stay," 


308    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

lips  tightening.     "I'll  see  to  that!     Have  you  always  been 
a  Mormon,  Mr.  Nelson?" 

"Brought  up  in  it.  And  I've  brought  my  children  up 
in  it.  Judith  told  us  about  the  rotten  trick  they  did  you 
over  in  Lost  Chief.  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it?" 

"Get  them!''  replied  Douglas.  "That  is,  after  I  find 
Judith.  I  think  I  know  the  men  who  did  it,  and  the 
sooner  they  get  out  of  our  valley,  the  more  comfortable 
they'll  be  and  so  will  I." 

"But  where  is  that  poor  old  man?"  cried  Nelson. 
"Have  you  looked  for  him?" 

"I  was  trying  to  get  a  line  on  him  from  Scott  Parsons 
when  her  mother  brought  word  Judith  was  gone." 
Douglas  paused  and  gave  Elijah  a  straight  look.  "I 
wouldn't  stop  to  look  for  any  one  on  earth,  if  Judith 
needed  me." 

"Judith  can  take  care  of  herself  better  than  that  old 
man,"  insisted  Elijah. 

"Nothing  to  it!"  grunted  Douglas.  "He's  been  in  the 
cow  country  forty  years.  Not  but  what  I  know  it  was 
a  frightful  thing  to  leave  him.  But  it  can't  be  helped." 

"What  shall  you  do  about  a  church  now?"  asked  Mr. 
Nelson. 

"Build  it  again  for  the  hounds  to  burn  again!  If 
I  believed  in  a  God  I'd  say  he  was  off  his  job  as  far  as 
I'm  concerned." 

"Humph!"  exclaimed  Elijah.  "If  I  don't  miss  my 
guess,  the  Almighty  is  directing  your  business  these  days 
as  he  never  has  before.  You  are  just  about  doing  what 
He  says  and  flattering  yourself  it's  your  own  plan.  God 
moves  in  a  mysterious  way,  His  wonders  to  perform." 

"I  wish  I  could  believe  it,"  muttered  Douglas,  starting 
for  the  door. 

"Now,  I  shifted  saddle  and  pack  for  you  to  two  horses 


THE  TRAIL  OVER  THE  PASS         309 

of  mine!''  said  Elijah.  "If  you  find  that  girl,  bring 
her  back  here.  I  want  to  have  some  talk  with  you 
both.  You  can  pay  me  rent  for  'em,  so  don't  waste 
your  breath  arguing." 

"Well,  whether  you  are  a  Sioux  or  a  Mormon,"  ex 
claimed  Douglas,  "you  sure  are  white!" 

Elijah  grinned  broadly.  "Well,  that's  a  real  conces 
sion  for  a  Gentile!  Be  sure  you  stop  here  on  the  way 
out." 

It  was  Douglas'  turn  to  grin.  "We'll  sure  be  glad 
to  head  straight  for  here.  But  I'll  warn  you  now.  You 
can't  make  Mormons  of  us!" 

"I'm  not  a-going  to  try.  But  I  want  to  say  a  few 
things  to  you.  No  harm  in  that,  is  there?'' 

"None  at  all !"  Douglas  shook  hands  with  his  host, 
then  turned  to  Mrs.  Nelson.  "I'm  sure  obliged  to  you," 
he  said. 

"That's  nothing.  But  look,  Mr.  Spencer,  don't  you 
be  too  sure  you're  going  to  bring  that  girl  back  with 
you,  even  if  you  overtake  her." 

Douglas  nodded.  "I  know,"  he  agreed  huskily,  "I've 
got  my  work  cut  out  for  me."  Then  he  went  out  into 
the  starlight. 

Elijah  followed.  "The  moon  will  be  up  by  the  time 
you  need  it.  Follow  trail  up  to  the  timber  line.  Skirt 
the  timber  line  till  you  reach  the  first  shoulder  of  Black 
Devil.  After  that,  God  help  you!  The  horse  you  are 
on  is  named  Tom.  If  you  aren't  back  in  five  days,  I'll 
go  over  to  Lost  Chief  and  get  help  to  look  for  you." 

"Thanks,"  said  Douglas,  and  he  rode  away. 

Warmed,  refreshed,  and  with  hope  shadowing  his 
anxiety,  Douglas  turned  the  horses  southward.  Tom 
horse  was  a  big,  broad-hoofed  brute,  hard-bitted  and 
not  at  all  enthusiastic  about  his  prospective  trip.  But 


310     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

he  was  a  stronger  animal  than  Justus  and  Douglas 
pushed  him  sharply  through  the  snow. 

The  trail  through  the  fields  for  three  or  four  miles 
was  easy  to  find  in  the  starlight.  The  valley  narrowed 
as  it  rose  and  finally  Lost  Chief  and  Black  Devil  thrust 
foot  to  foot  in  a  narrow  canyon.  Douglas  did  not  enter 
the  canyon  but  twined  upward  to  the  right  along  the 
timber  line  that  clothed  the  ankles  of  Black  Devil.  The 
moon  had  not  yet  risen  when  the  timber  disappeared  at 
the  foot  of  the  first  shoulder.  Douglas  pulled  up  the 
panting  horses,  turned  back  to  the  wind  and  rested  for 
a  few  moments,  then  put  Tom  to  the  climb.  The  snow 
was  without  crust  but  it  was  knee-deep  and  Tom  didn't 
like  it.  He  floundered  and  snorted,  but  Douglas  spurred 
him  relentlessly  and  they  crested  the  shoulder  without 
pause.  Here,  however,  Doug  decided  to  wait  for  the 
moon. 

He  moved  into  the  shelter  of  a  rock  heap,  for  the 
wind  was  huge,  and,  beating  his  arms  across  his  chest, 
waited  with  what  patience  he  could  muster.  Where  was 
she  now?  Could  even  her  splendid  courage  stand  up 
against  the  eerie  loneliness.  If  only  he  could  see  her 
now,  returning  defeated,  though  still  defiant.  But  he 
knew  that  he  would  not  meet  her  so.  She  would  not 
give  up  while  she  had  strength  to  pursue  the  adven 
ture. 

There  was  no  view  of  the  peak  from  this  spot.  Before 
him  lifted  a  dark,  shadowy  wall,  sloping  interminably  to 
the  remote  heavens.  To  the  east,  Lost  Chief  Range  was 
silhouetted  against  a  faint  glow  that  told  of  the  coming 
moon.  To  the  west  was  a  chaos  of  unfamiliar  peaks. 
When  the  dusk  of  the  mountain-slope  before  him  turned 
to  radiant  silver,  Douglas  started  the  horses  on  and 


THE  TRAIL  OVER  THE  PASS         311 

spurred  Tom  relentlessly.  And  if  he  had  known  how  to 
pray,  he  told  himself,  he  would  have  asked  the  Almighty 
to  give  him  strength  for  the  tremendous  venture  which 
lay  before  him. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

BLACK   DEVIL   PASS 

They  can  stand  the  curse  of  being  women,  but  they're 
revolting  against  men's  being  stupid." 

— The  Mormon's  Wife. 

DOUGLAS  spurred  Tom  relentlessly  until  the  snow 
was  belly-deep  and  both  animals  began  to  fight 
obstinately  to  turn  back.  Douglas  dismounted  and  fast 
ened  the  horses  to  a  scrub  cedar.  Then  he  wallowed  for 
ward  afoot  to  break  trail.  The  wind  increased  con 
stantly  with  the  elevation,  but  even  higher  than  its  eerie 
note  sounded  the  wild  call  of  a  solitary  coyote.  Douglas 
heard  the  call  but  remotely.  His  mind  was  fastened 
on  Judith  righting  as  he  was  fighting.  He  beat  trail 
until  his  lungs  protested,  then  he  brought  the  horses  for 
ward,  halted,  and  beat  trail  again.  His  nose  was  bleed 
ing  slightly  when  he  at  last  won  to  the  crest  of  the 
first  shoulder. 

This  was  blown  clear  of  snow  and  he  mounted  and 
rode  well  up  on  the  second  shoulder  before  the  horses 
again  balked.  Lost  Chief  Range  now  had  dropped  so 
that  dimly  beyond  he  could  glimpse  the  Indian  peaks. 
The  strange  peaks  to  the  right  were  subsiding  to  be 
dwarfed  by  still  other  peaks  against  which  the  stars 
floated,  pendulous  and  brilliant.  And  still  Black  Devil's 
top  was  invisible  beyond  the  terraced  ridge  that  opposed 
the  little  cavalcade. 

When,  after  infinite  effort,  Douglas  surmounted  the 

312 


BLACK  DEVIL  PASS  313 

third  shoulder,  he  paused,  appalled  by  the  loneliness  and 
danger  of  the  position.  The  ridge  had  narrowed  until 
its  top  offered  barely  a  foothold,  with  sides  dropping  to 
unthinkable  depths.  The  snow  had  blown  clear  and  the 
wind  was  almost  insupportable.  A  cedar  stood  before 
them  like  a  sentinal  guarding  the  eternal  loneliness  be 
yond.  Tom  made  for  this  as  if  it  were  his  last  hope. 
As  the  horses  brought  up  in  the  shelter  of  the  tree, 
Douglas  gave  a  hoarse  cry  of  relief  and  dismounted. 
Some  charred  sticks  and  the  remains  of  a  cottontail  had 
not  yet  blown  away.  Douglas  examined  the  traces  of  the 
hasty  camp,  then  chuckled. 

"Safe  so  far!     Some  girl,  my  Judith!" 

Then  his  jaw  stiffened  and  he  set  the  horses  to  the 
last  shoulder  below  the  Pass.  Groaning,  trembling, 
bloody  flanks  heaving,  fighting  constantly  to  turn,  Tom, 
when  Douglas  sought  to  force  him  through  the  drift 
that  topped  the  shoulder,  deliberately  lay  down.  Doug 
las  freed  himself  from  the  stirrups  and  jerked  the  horse 
to  his  feet. 

"I  wouldn't  own  an  ornery,  unwilling  brute  like  you, 
for  a  ranch!"  he  panted.  "Do  you  think  I'm  enjoying 
this,  that  we  are  a  bunch  of  dudes  on  a  summer  outing? 
I'll  get  angry  at  you  in  a  moment,  fellow !" 

The  pack-horse  had  embraced  the  opportunity  to  fall 
asleep.  Tom,  violently  affronted  by  Doug's  tirade,  did 
his  not  inconsiderable  best  to  kick  his  mate.  Then  he 
snapped  at  Douglas,  who  promptly  cuffed  him  on  the 
nose.  Tom  reared,  fell,  and  began  to  roll  down  the 
terrible  slope.  The  pack-horse  did  not  waken  nor  stir. 
Doug  flung  himself  after  Tom.  Slipping,  falling,  roll 
ing,  he  finally  caught  the  reins,  and  though  Tom  dragged 
him  fifty  yards  on  downward,  he  at  last  braced  his  spurs 
against  a  boulder,  the  reins  held  and  Tom  brought  up, 


314    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

trembling  and  coughing.  And  now  horse  and  man  could 
only  stand  for  a  long  time  struggling  for  breath.  When 
his  numbing  hands  gave  warning  that  his  rest  period 
must  cease,  Douglas,  with  the  reins  caught  over  his 
elbow,  began  a  fight  back  to  the  crest  of  the  ridge,  a 
fight  to  which  the  previous  portion  of  the  trip  had  been 
as  nothing.  When  they  reached  the  led  horse,  still 
sleeping  with  his  nose  between  his  fore  legs,  there  was 
no  more  fight  left  in  Tom,  and  Douglas  dropped  into 
the  snow  to  rest. 

The  moon  was  setting  when  he  led  his  little  train 
through  the  gigantic  drift  to  the  long  slope  which  lifted 
to  the  Pass.  There  was  no  snow  here.  The  slope,  as 
far  as  Doug  could  discern  in  the  failing  light,  was  a 
glare  of  rough  ice.  Over  this  he  dared  not  urge  the 
horses  until  daylight.  He  looked  at  his  watch.  It  was 
nearly  five  o'clock.  He  fastened  the  horses  to  the  only 
cedar  in  sight,  then  stood  in  the  wind  debating  with 
himself. 

He  was  very  much  exhausted  and  the  rare  air  and 
the  intense  cold  were  giving  him  no  chance  to  recoup. 
This  was  no  place  to  make  camp.  The  tiny  cedar  offered 
neither  shelter  from  the  wind  nor  an  adequate  amount 
of  fuel.  And  up  here,  in  this  hostile  loneliness,  his  anx 
iety  over  Judith  returned  threefold.  Strong  as  she  was, 
clever  as  she  was,  she  was  as  open  to  accidents  as  he. 
Supposing  her  horses  had  slipped  on  this  ice  and  had 
gone  over  the  black  edge !  Douglas  dropped  to  his  hands 
and  knees  and  crept  out  upon  the  glassy  surface.  A 
hundred  yards  of  this  and  he  brought  to  pause  before 
a  giant  boulder  beside  which  grew  several  dwarf  cedars. 
He  drew  his  ax  from  its  sheath  and  after  long  effort 
with  his  stiffened  fingers,  he  got  the  green  wood  to  burn 
ing.  Dawn,  about  seven,  found  him  napping  against 


BLACK  DEVIL  PASS  315 

the  warm  face  of  the  rock.  He  brought  the  horses  up 
to  the  camp,  fed  them  and  himself,  and  as  the  sun  shot 
over  the  Indian  Range,  then  prepared  to  lead  the  horses 
onward. 

The  crest  of  Black  Devil  now  lifted  immediately  above 
him.  Just  below  the  crest,  a  ledge  broad  enough  for  a 
pack  team  led  straight  into  the  blue  of  the  sky.  To 
the  right  the  dark  wall  of  the  crest.  To  the  left  a  sheer 
drop  where  the  canyon  between  Lost  Chief  Range  and 
Black  Devil  yawned  hideously.  This  ledge,  this  narrow, 
painful  crossing,  made  the  Pass. 

Douglas  drew  his  ax  and  prepared  to  roughen  a  trail 
over  the  ice  for  the  horses.  But  to  his  unspeakable 
delight,  he  had  not  gone  far  when  he  discovered  that 
another  ax  and  other  horses  had  gone  over  the  ice 
before  him.  He  was  grinning  cheerfully  as  he  sheathed 
his  ax  and  took  Tom's  reins  in  hand. 

It  was  noon  when  he  reached  the  Pass.  Sheer  red 
walls  to  the  right,  rising  to  the  hovering  top  of  Black 
Devil.  Still  the  sickening  canyon  depths  to  the  left.  To 
the  south,  myriad  peaks,  a  whole  world  of  peaks,  snow- 
covered,  serene.  Far,  far  below,  a  blurred  green  valley, 
with  a  tiny  white  spot  in  its  center.  Johnson's  Basin. 
The  slope  south  from  the  Pass  was  very  steep  and  deep 
with  snow,  but  Douglas  saw  Judith's  trail  zig-zagging 
to  a  low  shoulder  round  which  it  disappeared. 

He  fed  the  horses,  ate  some  biscuits  and  bacon,  both 
frozen,  and  started  downward.  Shortly  snow  began  to 
fall,  but  he  had  no  difficulty  in  following  trail  until  mid- 
afternoon.  Then  he  paused  on  the  low  shoulder.  There 
were  scrub  pines  in  which  Judith  had  made  a  camp.  The 
snow  had  thickened  until  Doug  could  see  scarcely  ten 
feet  ahead.  He  was  utterly  weary  and  very  cold.  He 
knew  that  he  ought  to  go  into  camp  for  the  night  but 


316    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

he  could  not.  He  tied  the  horses  beneath  the  trees,  a 
grateful,  windless  haven  to  the  poor  brutes,  and  went 
slowly  on  to  reconnoiter. 

Judith's  tracks  continued  abruptly  down  the  slope. 
Douglas  followed  for  a  few  feet,  then  stopped.  A  horse 
had  fallen  here  and  rolled  down  the  steep  left  wall.  He 
dropped  to  his  knees  and  followed  the  wide,  snow-packed 
trail.  He  had  not  far  to  go.  From  the  snow  drifted 
over  a  rock  protruded  a  horse's  hoof.  Doug  swept 
the  body  free  of  snow.  It  was  old  Buster,  with  his 
right  fore  leg  broken  and  a  bullet  wound  in  his  head. 
Hot  tears  scalded  Doug's  wind-tortured  eyes.  After  a 
moment  of  search  for  further  details  of  the  catastrophe, 
he  crawled  up  the  wall  again  and,  after  a  frantic  hunt, 
found  a  blurred  single  horse  trail  leading  on  from  the 
spot  whence  Buster  had  slipped.  He  went  back  for 
his  own  horses,  mounted  Tom  and  pushed  on  down 
ward. 

But  he  could  not  continue  long.  It  was  soon  dusk 
and  he  dared  not  risk  losing  Judith's  tracks.  When 
he  came  upon  the  next  cedar  clump,  clinging  precari 
ously  to  the  mountainside,  he  dismounted.  Under  the 
shelter  of  the  trees,  he  fastened  the  horses.  He  trampled 
the  snow  for  his  fire-place  and  chopped  a  night's  supply 
of  wood.  After  he  had  eaten  a  hot  supper,  he  wrapped 
himself  in  his  blankets  and  huddled  over  the  fire,  con 
sumed  by  anxiety. 

The  wind  rushed  by  the  cedars  without  pause.  The 
hard,  dry  pellets  of  snow  rattled  on  the  trees.  The 
horses,  their  chins  hung  with  icicles,  stood  with  bowed 
heads,  motionless. 

All  of  Doug's  life  passed  in  review  before  his  sleepless 
eyes.  He  could  not  recall  when  he  had  not  been  shaping 


BLACK  DEVIL  PASS  317 

his  days  around  Judith.  Even  when  as  children  they 
had  lived  the  snarling  life  of  young  pups,  she  had  been 
the  center  of  his  universe.  He  wondered  if  love  came 
to  many  men  as  it  had  come  to  him.  He  had  not  observed 
it  in  any  other  man  in  Lost  Chief.  Perhaps  Peter  had 
cared  so.  Perhaps  in  the  outside  world  it  was  not  infre 
quent.  But  whether  it  was  a  common  sort  of  love  or 
not,  he  could  not  picture  himself  without  Judith  in  his 
life.  If  he  should  find  her  dead,  farther  down  on  this 
ghastly  mountainside,  he  knew  that  the  light  and  warmth 
within  him  would  go  out  and  that  he  never  would  finish 
the  journey. 

One  by  one  he  went  over  the  steps  of  the  past  year 
that  had  culminated  in  this  trip  over  Black  Devil  Pass. 
He  realized  that  every  step  had  been  the  result  of  his 
own  years  of  mental  conflict.  Yet  he  could  not  see  how 
he  could  have  failed  to  take  each  step  as  he  had  taken 
it.  His  mind  mysteriously  refused  to  present  an  alter 
native.  And,  thinking  thus,  he  was  conscious  of  a  sense 
of  spiritual  helplessness  as  if  he  were  being  borne  on 
and  on  by  forces  quite  beyond  his  control.  And  there 
came  to  him  a  sudden  and  shattering  conviction  that 
this  terrible  night  of  loneliness  had  been  inevitable  since 
the  day  of  his  birth.  Call  it  Fate,  he  told  himself,  call 
it  Destiny,  call  it  what  we  might,  something  stronger 
than  his  own  will  had  shaped  his  days  toward  this  awful, 
expedition.  Awful,  he  thought,  not  from  the  physical 
aspect — he  had  endured  as  much  in  other  ways — as 
from  the  quality  of  the  events  that  had  brought  the 
expedition  about.  It  was  all  wrong  that  Judith  should 
have  been  in  the  state  of  mind  that  made  it  possible  for 
her  to  put  herself  to  such  a  wild  flight.  Revolt,  the 
Mormon's  wife  had  said  it  was.  Revolt  against  what? 


318    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Surely  against  something  stupendous,  something  that  a 
man  was  powerless  to  help  her  to  free  herself  from  or 
to  bear. 

Ah,  Judith!  Judith!  Judith  all  fire,  all  wistfulness, 
all  strength  and  beauty!  What  was  he,  after  all,  to 
hope  to  claim  her,  or  even  having  won  her,  how  was  he 
to  keep  her?  How  was  he  to  keep  within  his  ken  that 
restless,  soaring  spirit?  What  could  he  give  her  that 
would  satisfy,  and  hold  her?  For  the  first  time  in  many 
years,  Douglas  could  have  wept;  wept  for  very  sadness 
that  Judith  should  be  so  lonely  and  so  wistful. 

How  long  he  sat  shivering  with  his  burning  eyes  on 
the  fire,  Douglas  did  not  know.  He  was  roused  by  a 
faint  cry  above  the  wind.  At  first  he  thought  it  was  a 
coyote.  But  when  it  repeated,  he  started  to  his  feet  and 
concentrated  in  an  agony  of  attention  on  the  sound. 
Once  more  it  came,  longdrawn,  troubled,  the  howl  of  a 
dog.  Doug  dropped  the  blankets  and  strode  from  the 
shelter  of  the  trees  to  deliver  a  long  coo-ee.  The  wind 
was  against  him.  There  was  no  response. 

He  hurriedly  dragged  his  entire  supply  of  firewood 
before  the  shelter  and  set  it  to  blazing.  Then  he  plunged 
on  foot  downward  through  the  wind-swept,  snow-driven 
darkness. 

It  was  a  terrible  journey.  He  slipped  and  fell  so 
often  and  so  far  that  when  the  light  behind  him  dwindled 
to  a  faint  point,  he  dared  continue  no  farther.  Standing 
waist-deep  in  snow,  he  whistled  and  called.  But  the 
cyclone  wind  drove  the  sound  back  into  his  teeth.  Sick 
at  soul,  he  prepared  to  turn  back.  He  beat  his  arms 
across  his  chest,  stamped  his  feet,  slipped,  and  once 
more  rolled  downward.  He  brought  up  with  a  crash  in  a 
cedar  clump.  A  dog  barked  and  threw  himself  against 
Doug  with  a  snarl  that  changed  at  once  to  a  whine  of  joy. 


BLACK  DEVIL  PASS  319 

"Wolf  Cub!     Wolf  Cub!     -Where  is  she?" 

He  grasped  the  dog's  collar.  It  was  very  dark 
beneath  the  trees.  Wolf  Cub  led  him  forward  for  a 
few  feet.  He  stumbled  over  a  soft,  huddled  form.  He 
rolled  to  his  knees  and  pulled  a'  blanket  aside.  Judith ! — 
her  head  pillowed  on  her  knees. 

"Judith!  Judith!"  No  reply.  Doug  put  the  blanket 
over  her  again  and,  with  hands  like  frozen  clods,  jerked 
out  his  sheath  ax  and  with  infinite  difficulty  lopped  off 
a  cedar  bough  and  got  a  fire  to  going.  Sifting  snow 
pellets,  and  the  little  wild  mare's  beautiful  anxious  eyes 
and  drifted  forelock,  then  that  form  beneath  the  blanket. 
Douglas  heaped  the  fire  high,  then  hurled  the  blanket 
away. 

"Judith!  Judith!  Judith!"  Sobbing,  he  crouched 
beside  her,  gathered  her  in  his  arms,  laid  her  cold  face 
in  his  breast,  tried  to  enwrap  her  body  with  his. 

"Judith!     Judith!" 

Wolf  Cub  whined  in  eager  circles.  Douglas  laid  his 
cheek  against  her  lips.  A  faint  warmth.  He  shook  her, 
frantically,  and  beat  her  hands  with  his.  Then  he  rose 
and  balanced  her  on  her  feet.  She  hung  limply  in  his 
arms.  He  huddled  her  before  the  fire  again  and  forced 
some  whiskey  down  her  throat.  He  manipulated  her 
inert  body  until  when  he  lifted  her  again  onto  her  feet 
she  was  able  to  stand.  Still  half  in  his  arms.  Then  he 
forced  her  to  stumble  back  and  forth  beside  the  fire. 

"Judith!     Judith!     Judith!" 

"It's  you,  Doug!"  weakly  and  with  bewildered  eyes. 

"O  Jude,  how  could  you!     How  could  you!" 

"Poor  Buster — dead!"  muttered  Judith. 

"I  know!  I  found  him.  You  must  keep  going, 
Judith.  Lean  on  me  but  keep  going." 

But   circulation  was   returning  to   her   strong  young 


320    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

body.     Shortly  she  was  able  to  stand  alone  and  to  ask 
Doug  where  he  had  come  from. 

"My  camp  is  up  the  mountain  a  ways.  Why  didn't 
you  have  a  fire?" 

"Lost  my  pack  when  I  lost  Buster.  Lost  my  match- 
safe  when  I  fell  with  the  little  wild  mare  this  afternoon." 

"I'm  going  to  take  you  back  up  to  my  camp,  Judith." 

"I  don't  think  I  can  make  it,  Doug.  It  would  have 
to  be  a  foot  climb." 

"You  must  make  it.  There  is  nothing  at  all  here  to 
keep  us  both  from  freezing  to  death.  We'll  start  now, 
while  I  can  still  see  the  fire  I  left  up  there." 

"I  can't,  Doug!     You  bring  your  camp  down  here." 

"This  is  no  shelter  at  all.  I'm  in  the  big  cedars  above 
here.  You've  got  to  have  some  hot  food  right  off.  We 
will  leave  the  little  wild  mare  here  until  morning." 

With  Wolf  Cub  hanging  to  their  heels,  they  started 
the  upward  climb.  Judith  gave  to  the  last  ounce  of  her 
depleted  strength.  They  reached  the  still  glowing  ashes 
of  Doug's  fire  on  their  hands  and  knees,  and  lay  beside 
it  till  the  warning  chill  brought  Douglas  to  his  feet.  He 
chopped  more  wood,  rekindled  the  fire  in  the  center  of 
the  camp,  and  established  Judith  beside  it  on  some 
blankets.  Then  he  prepared  some  coffee  and  bacon  for 
her.  She  ate  ravenously.  Douglas  watched  her  with 
satisfaction  radiating  from  every  line  of  his  snow-burned 
face. 

"Are  you  warm  now,  JudeT'  he  asked  her  when  she 
had  begun  on  her  second  cup  of  coffee. 

"Well,  not  exactly  warm,  but  I  sure  am  thawing!" 

"As  soon  as  you  are  warm,  I'll  let  you  sleep.  That's 
right,  let  old  Wolf  Cub  snuggle  up  against  you.  He's 
better  than  a  hot-water  bottle.  Are  you  surprised  to 
see  me,  Judith?" 


BLACK  DEVIL  PASS  321 

She  looked  up  at  him  through  weary  eyes  that  still 
held  the  old  unquenchable  fires  in  their  depths. 

"I  didn't  know.  If  you  had  gone  off  on  a  long  hunt 
for  the  sky  pilot,  you  wouldn't  have  heard  yet  that  I 
was  gone.  Did  you  find  him?" 

"I  never  even  got  to  look  for  him.  I  was  down  at 
Inez'  trying  to  sweat  some  truth  out  of  Scott  when  your 
mother  came  in  with  word  you  were  gone.  Peter  and 
I  started  after  you  at  once." 

"Peter!     Where  is  he?" 

"Jude,  let's  keep  our  stories  until  morning.  Things 
look  different,  then.  And  you  are  all  in." 

"So  are  you!" 

"I'm  not  as  bad  off  as  you.  Let  me  tuck  you  up,  dear. 
When  you've  had  -a  sleep,  you  can  give  me  my  turn." 

Too  done  up  to  protest,  Judith  allowed  Douglas  to  wrap 
her  in  blankets  and,  with  the  Wolf  Cub  snuggled  against 
her  back,  she  dropped  into  slumber.  Douglas  set  him 
self  to  the  task  of  keeping  the  fire  going.  The  snow 
ceased  at  midnight  and  the  cold  grew  more  intense. 
Douglas  chopped  wood  or  wralked  up  and  down  before 
the  fire  to  fight  off  the  snow  stupor  which  constantly 
menaced  him.  When  the  lethargy  was  too  heavy  to  be 
controlled  by  exercise  alone,  he  stooped  over  Judith  and, 
lifting  the  corner  of  the  blanket  which  covered  her  face, 
he  would  gaze  at  her  with  such  joy  and  thankfulness  as 
he  never  before  had  experienced.  Whatever  the  future 
might  bring  forth,  he  had  her  safe  and  warm  for  to-night. 
And  he  wished  that  he  believed  in  a  God  that  he  might 
thank  Him! 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
ELIJAH  NELSON'S  RANCH 

"Call  it  Fate,  call  it  Destiny,  something  stronger  than 
my  own  will  is  shaping  my  destiny." 

— Douglas  Spencer. 

AT  dawn  Judith  stirred,  blinked  at  Douglas,  and  sat 
up,  staring.  Her  eyes  were  bloodshot  and  deep 
sunk  in  her  head,  but  her  look  was  full  of  energy,  never 
theless.  Douglas  was  standing  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  fire. 

"Have  you  been  up  all  night?"  she  demanded. 

"Had  to  keep  the  fire,"  he  mumbled,  swaying  as  he 
spoke. 

Judith  crawled  out  of  the  blankets,  took  Doug  by  the 
arm,  and  pushed  him  down  in  the  warm  nest  she  had 
left.  Then  she  covered  him  carefully. 

"It's  my  turn  now,"  she  said. 

He  slept  until  noon.  When  he  woke,  Judith  was 
making  coffee,  and  the  little  wild  mare  was  munching 
oats  with  the  other  horses.  The  Wolf  Cub  was  gnawing 
on  a  bone,  and  the  sun  sifted  brilliantly  through  the 
cedars.  Douglas  got  to  his  feet  stiffly  and  Judith  looked 
up  at  him  from  her  cooking  with  a  smile. 

"Nothing  like  having  your  breakfast  served  immedi 
ately  on  waking,"  said  Douglas. 

"Come  and  eat,  Doug.  We  must  be  on  our  way." 
Judith  poured  a  tin  cup  of  coffee  and  offered  Douglas  a 
bacon  sandwich  as  she  spoke. 

322 


ELIJAH  NELSON'S  RANCH  323 

uYou  shouldn't  have  let  me  sleep  so  long.  A  couple 
of  hours  would  have  kept  me  going  the  rest  of  the  day." 

"You  talk  as  foolish  as  old  Johnny!"  exclaimed  Judith. 
"You  were  in  almost  as  bad  shape  as  I  was,  and  two 
hours'  sleep  would  have  been  a  mere  aggravation  to  me. 
Will  you  let  me  have  enough  grub  to  see  me  down  to  the 
Bowdins'  ranch,  Doug?" 

"No,  I  won't,"  replied  Douglas  succinctly,  bracing 
himself  for  battle  as  he  spoke. 

"Don't  let's  quarrel,  Doug."  Judith  kept  her  eyes  on 
the  fire.  "I  haven't  any  intention  of  going  back  to  Lost 
Chief.  I've  broken  away  and  I  shall  stay  away." 

"I  don't  blame  you  for  feeling  that  way,  Jude,  but 
surely  you  can  see  that  this  is  no  way  to  go." 

Judith  set  her  fine  jaw  firmly.  Finally  she  said, 
"Where  did  you  pick  up  my  trail?" 

"Where  you  left  the  stage  road.  Jude,  did  you  know 
that  old  Johnny  gave  Dad  a  nasty  one  above  the  knee?" 

"No!  Old  Johnny  came  to  my  rescue,  but  I  didn't 
think  he  could  hit  a  canyon  wall.  Good  old  Johnny! 
What  became  of  him?" 

Douglas  moistened  his  lips.  "He  followed  my  father 
to  the  half-way  house.  Dad  was  all  in.  Couldn't  even 
build  himself  a  fire.  Johnny  wouldn't  do  a  thing  for 
him.  He  went  outside  and  sat  down  on  the  doorstep 
with  my  shot-gun  across  his  knees ;  every  time  Dad  yelled 
at  him  he  said  he  was  saving  Jude  for  Douglas.  The 
last  of  the  afternoon  Peter  and  I  came  up  and  found 
old  Johnny  there." 

"Good  old  Johnny!"  said  Judith  again. 

Douglas  nodded,  hesitated,  then  said.  "He  was  asleep 
and  we  couldn't  wake  him  up." 

Judith's  eyes  suddenly  filled  with  horror.  "You 
couldn't  wake  him  up?  You  mean — " 


324     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

Again  Douglas  nodded.  "He  was  gone,  poor  old 
Johnny.  For  you  and  me.  I  came  on  after  you,  alone." 

Judith  twisted  her  hands  together.  "But  dead,  Doug! 
And  in  such  a  simple  way!  O  the  poor  little  old  chap! 
I  can't  forgive  myself,  Douglas!" 

"It's  the  way  he'd  like  to  have  gone.  You  are  not 
to  blame." 

"O,  yes,  I  am.  I  should  have  stopped  and  sent  him 
home.  But  I  was  beside  myself,  Doug, — O,  you  don't 
know!  you  can't  know!" 

"You're  not  to  blame  yourself  about  Johnny,  I  tell 
you." 

"Now  I  never  do  want  to  go  back !  You'll  just  have  to 
grub-stake  me,  Doug.  Please!" 

Douglas  pushed  his  hair  back  from  his  forehead.  If 
only  she  would  not  plead  with  him !  She  never  had  done 
that.  He  did  not  believe  that  he  could  stand  out  against 
it. 

"You  mustn't  think  of  going  on  alone,  Jude,"  he  said. 

"Then  you  come  as  far  as  Bowdins'  with  me  and  get 
rested  up  for  your  trip  back." 

"I  want  you  to  come  back  with  me,"  repeated  Doug. 

"No!"  said  Judith.  "I'm  never  going  back  to  Lost 
Chief!" 

"Then  come  as  far  as  the  Mormon's.  Get  rested  and 
get  some  clothes  together  and  I'll  take  you  out  to  Mountain 
City,  and  I'll  loan  you  enough  money  to  live  on  while  you 
get  a  job,  or  I'll  put  you  through  college.  Either  you 
want.  You've  done  a  great  stunt,  Judith,  crossing  Black 
Devil  in  winter.  But  putting  over  a  stunt  isn't  necessarily 
acting  with  judgment." 

"How  could  I  act  with  judgment,  under  the  circum 
stances?"  demanded  Judith. 

Douglas  looked   at  her   with  passionate   earnestness. 


ELIJAH  NELSON'S  RANCH  325 

"Judith,"  he  said,  "you  must  believe  that  I'm  not  criti 
cizing  you.  I'm  just  trying  to  help  you  do  the  wise 
thing." 

"Why  can't  I  go  on  across  the  Basin  and  get  the  A.  B. 
railroad  at  Doty's  ?"  asked  Judith. 

Douglas  looked  down  the  terrible  mountainside.  "We 
aren't  equipped  for  it,  Jude." 

She  drew  a  deep  breath.  "I  don't  want  to  go  back 
where  I  have  to  breathe  the  same  air  he  does." 

"Judith,  what  did  he  do?"  Doug's  lips  were  stiff  and 
his  eyes  contracted  as  if  with  pain. 

"I  didn't  give  him  a  chance  to  do  anything.  I  don't 
want  even  to  talk  about  it." 

Douglas  sat  silent  for  a  moment ;  then  he  said  huskily, 
"I'm  ashamed  of  him." 

Suddenly  Judith  put  her  hands  before  her  eyes  and 
began  to  sob.  Douglas  groaned.  He  put  his  arms  about 
her  and  presently  she  leaned  against  him  and  wept  with 
complete  abandonment.  Finally  she  began  to  talk. 

"He's  always  worried  me,  a  little — but  I  wasn't  really 
afraid  of  him.  I  don't  want  to  think  about  him — or 
talk  about  him — to  anybody.  Up  till  Saturday  night  he 
was  just  one  of  the  hard  things  that  heckled  me — I  didn't 
have  anybody  to  go  to.  If  I  went  to  you,  you'd  want 
to — marry  me.  And — Inez — Inez  has  gone  back  on  all 
the  ideas  she  got  me  to  believe.  She's  gone — and  fallen 
in  love — with  Peter!  She — she  told  me  not  long  ago 
that  she  was  going  to  do  everything  she  could  to  make 
him  marry  her. — Just  as  soon  as  something  touched  her 
selfish  interests  she  went  to  pieces. — I  want  to  get  away 
from  Lost  Chief!" 

Douglas  patted  her  shoulder  in  silence.  It  was 
inexpressibly  sweet  to  have  her  there. 

"A  girl  has  a  brain,  as  well  as  a  man,"  she  went  on. 


326     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"She  doesn't  want  to  be  just  a  servant  to  a  rough  old 
rancher.  She  wants  to  live  by  her  brain  as  well  as  he 
does.  What's  the  use  of  a  woman  being  fine  if 
that's  all  her  fineness  comes  to?  You  can  say  she 
hands  it  on  to  her  children.  But  she  don't.  It's 
something  she  acquires  and  it's  lost — in  the  scrub 
bing  pail." 

Douglas  listened  with  the  whole  of  his  mind.  Judith's 
sobs  had  ceased  now,  and  she  went  on,  slowly.  "It's 
not  that  I'm  against  children.  I'd  love  to  have  a  half  a 
dozen  babies.  But  what  I  am  against  is  giving  all  that 
is  in  me — the  brain  side  of  me,  to  something  that 
demands  only  a  small  part  of  my  brain.  I  want  a  life 
like  a  man's  and  a  \voman's  too,  that  makes  me  give  all, 
all.  Surely  I  can  find  a  place  somewhere  where  I  can 
give  that." 

Douglas  drew  an  uncertain  breath.  The  Mormon 
woman  had  known.  A  sense  of  his  own  inadequacy 
settled  on  him  like  a  cloud. 

"I  know  you  think  I'm  a  fool.  Yet  you  have  big 
dreams  for  yourself  or  you  wouldn't  have  felt  as  you 
have  about  the  preacher.  One  has  to  have  an  ideal  to 
live  by.  I  thought  Inez  had  given  me  one  and — "  with 
a  sob  that  shook  her  whole  fine  body — "I  don't  see  how 
it  can  work  out!" 

"I  suppose,"  said  Douglas,  in  his  gentle  voice,  "that 
folks  have  been  trying  out  Inez'  idea  ever  since  love 
began,  and  the  homely,  every-day  details  of  living  make 
it  impossible." 

Judith  drew  a  long  breath  and  was  silent. 

"And  so,"  said  Douglas,  "you  are  through  with  love 
and  marriage.  Yet  no  human  being  can  be  happy 
without  both.  Life  is  like  that." 

Judith  sprang  to  her  feet  and  Douglas  rose  with  her. 


ELIJAH  NELSON'S  RANCH  327 

She  began  to  walk  rapidly  up  and  down  before  the  fire. 
It  was  so  evident  that  a  tempest  was  raging  within  her 
that  Douglas  watched  her  with  astonishment  and  dis 
may.  The  sunshine  flickered  gloriously  through  the 
cedar  branches.  Wolf  Cub  gave  cry  after  a  coyote.  It 
might  have  been  a  moment  or  a  lifetime  to  the  young 
rider  before  Judith  halted  in  front  of  him.  Her  tear- 
stained  face  was  tense.  Her  wide  eyes  burned  with  a 
light  he  never  before  had  seen  in  them. 

''And  if,"  she  exclaimed,  "I  told  you  that  I  loved  you; 
that  for  years  I  had  fought  off  a  love  for  you  that  was 
like  a  burning  flame  in  my  heart;  if  I  told  you  that  to 
me  you  are  as  beautiful  as  all  the  lovers  in  the  world; 
but  that  I  never,  never  would  give  myself  to  you  in  mar 
riage,  what  would  you  say?" 

Douglas'  gloved  hands  clenched  and  unclenched,  as  he 
fought  for  self  control.  After  a  moment  he  managed  to 
return,  steadily,  "I'd  ask  you  why?" 

The  tensity  of  Judith's  expression  did  not  relax.  "I've 
told  you  why.  I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  killing  love 
by  marriage.  And  it  always  works  so.  Always.  And 
yet,  O  Douglas,  I  love  you,  love  you!" 

Douglas  threw  back  his  head  with  a  sudden  breath, 
swept  Judith  into  his  arms  and  kissed  her,  kissed  her 
with  all  the  ardor  of  years  of  repression.  Judith  clung 
to  him  as  if  she  could  not  let  him  go.  And  yet,  when 
he  lifted  his  face  from  hers,  she  said,  none  the  less  firmly 
because  her  voice  was  husky : 

"But,  Douglas,  I  won't  marry  you !" 

Douglas  lifted  his  chin.  "Perhaps  you  won't,  my 
dearest !  I'm  not  going  to  let  that  thought  spoil  the  big 
moment  of  my  life." 

He  put  his  hands  on  her  shoulders  and  looked  at  her, 
at  the  long  brilliant  face  beneath  the  beaver  cap,  at  the 


328     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

fine  steel  slenderness  of  her,  and  then  he  said  in  his  low- 
voiced  way: 

"O  Judith!  Judith!  why  didn't  you  tell  me,  long 
ago!" 

"Because  nothing  would  satisfy  you  but  marriage," 
replied  Judith,  with  a  half  sob. 

Douglas  smiled  wistfully.  "But  I  haven't  changed! 
Why  did  you  tell  me  now?" 

"I  didn't  want  to !  I  didn't  mean  to !  But  I  couldn't 
help  it.  You  saved  my  life,  Doug!  It  ought  to  belong 
to  you,  but  O,  I  can't  give  it  to  you !  I  must  go  on.  I 
must  find  out  what  is  the  thing  I'm  meant  to  do.  I 
must!" 

Douglas  turned  from  her  troubled  face  to  gaze  at 
the  mad  descent  that  must  be  made  before  Johnson's 
Basin  could  be  won.  Then  he  put  up  his  hand  and  turned 
her  face  to  follow  his  glance. 

"Judith,  do  you  think  that  I  can  let  you  go  down  there  ? 
If  it  was  impossible  before,  think  how  I  feel  about  it 
now  I  know  that  you  love  me.  Somehow  we  have  got 
to  compromise  on  this  thing,  my  dearest." 

Judith  clung  to  him.  "I  don't  want  to  leave  you, 
Douglas.  But  I  can't  go  back  to  Lost  Chief.  I  can't!" 

Douglas  held  her  close  and  for  a  long  moment  there 
was  no  sound  in  the  wide  solitudes  except  the  Wolf 
Cub's  faint  hunting-cry. 

At  last  Douglas  said  slowly,  "If  I  give  you  my  word 
that  I'll  take  you  out  to  Mountain  City  as  soon  as  I 
can  outfit,  will  you  come  back  to  Nelson's  with  me?, 
Look  at  me,  Jude!" 

Judith  lifted  her  eyes  and  searched  Doug's  face  long 
and  wistfully.  Then  she  said,  brokenly,  "Yes,  I'll  come, 
if  you  will  give  me  your  promise.  Not  because  I  think 


ELIJAH  NELSON'S  RANCH  329 

it's  sensible  but  because,  now  I've  given  away  this  much, 
I  don't  want  to  be  separated  from  you  till — till  I've  un 
packed  my  heart  to  you!" 

"And  after  you've  done  that,"  asked  Douglas,  "do  you 
think  I  can  ever  let  you  go?" 

"But  I  thought  you  were  not  going  to  spoil  this  moment 
by  arguing  about  marriage!"  exclaimed  Judith. 

"I'll  not!"  cried  Douglas.     "Truly,  I'll  not." 

The  Wolf  Cub  trotted  importantly  into  the  camp  with 
a  scrawny  jack-rabbit  dragging  against  his  shaggy  gray 
breast.  Douglas  gave  a  quick  look  at  the  sky. 

"Judith,  either  we  must  put  this  place  into  shape  for 
a  night  camp  or  we  must  strike  out  at  once  so  as  to  get 
over  the  Pass  to-night." 

"We'd  better  break  camp,"  said  Judith.  "It's  get 
ting  frightfully  cold  and  there's  mighty  little  fodder 
left." 

They  fell  to  work  swiftly,  and  before  the  Wolf  Cub 
had  half  finished  his  meal  they  were  on  the  march. 
Douglas  led  on  Tom,  followed  by  his  pack-horse.  Ju 
dith  followed  on  the  little  wild  mare.  The  crest  of  Black 
Devil  hung  over  their  heads,  the  purple  of  his  front 
crosshatched  by  myriad  crevisses  filled  with  peacock-blue 
snow.  The  same  strange  blue  snow  had  obliterated  their 
trail,  and  Tom,  his  bloody  flanks  deep  in  the  drifts, 
leaped  and  slid  and  turned,  leaving  a  wake,  Judith  said, 
like  that  of  a  drunken  elephant. 

The  drifts  had  blown  clear  of  the  narrow  ridge  down 
which  poor  Buster  had  slid.  They  dared  not  trust  the 
horses  here,  but  dismounted  and  crept  gingerly  across, 
the  animals  slipping  and  snorting  behind  them.  They 
rested  after  the  crossing,  and  Douglas  saw  that  tears  were 
frozen  on  Judith's  lashes. 


330    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

''Judith,  I  believe  the  old  horse  was  glad  to  go  in 
service  that  way,"  he  said. 

Judith  shook  her  head.  "It's  been  a  terribly  expensive 
trip,"  she  said.  "Old  Johnny  and  Buster." 

"Expensive  for  them,  yes, — poor  old  scouts  both  of 
them,"  Douglas  sighed,  then  added,  "But,  God,  what 
a  marvelous  trip  for  me !" 

"And  for  me!"  Judith  nodded  soberly. 

They  beat  their  hands  across  their  breasts  and  re 
mounted,  silently. 

All  the  brilliant  afternoon,  they  worked  their  uneven 
way  upward.  Each  of  the  horses  was  down  again  and 
again.  Both  Judith  and  Douglas  were  bruised  and  cut 
by  ice.  Both  were  drawing  breath  in  rapid  sobs  when, 
just  before  sunset,  they  fought  the  last  few  yards  to  the 
level  of  the  Pass,  won  to  it,  and  lay  on  the  icy  ledge, 
exhausted.  Wolf  Cub  nosed  them  and  whined  disconso 
lately. 

"You're  right — old  hunter — !"  gasped  Douglas.  "If 
we — don't — keep  moving — the  cold — will  get  us!" 

Judith,  who  had  been  lying  on  her  back  staring  at 
the  sky,  rolled  over  on  her  face  and  struggled  to  her  hands 
and  knees. 

"Keep  that — wild — elephant — you  call — a  horse  in  a 
long  lead — or  he'll  step  on  you — Doug!"  she  called. 

"Give  me —  a  long — start,  then!" 

Douglas  started  forward  on  hands  and  knees.  The 
little  wild  mare  was  as  careful  in  following  Judith  as  was 
the  Wolf  Cub.  But  Tom  gave  constant  evidence  of  an 
earnest  desire  to  walk  on  Douglas  instead  of  the  trail. 
He  was  too  tired  now,  however,  to  be  ugly,  and  the 
Pass  was  crossed  without  accident  or  incident. 

It  was  dusk  when  they  made  the  great  rocks  where 


ELIJAH  NELSON'S  RANCH  331 

Douglas  had  camped  before.  Judith's  strength  was  gone. 
She  pulled  the  reins  over  the  little  wild  mare's  head  and 
tried  to  pull  her  ax  from  its  sheath.  But  her  benumbed 
fingers  refused  to  act. 

"Keep  moving,  Jude!"  urged  Douglas.  "Just  till  I 
can  get  a  fire  started.  Don't  stop  walking  for  a  mo 
ment !'' 

When  at  last  a  blaze  was  going  before  the  rocks,  Doug 
unrolled  the  blankets  from  the  lead-horse  and  wrapped 
Judith  in  them.  She  crouched  against  the  face  of  the 
rocks  in  silence  while  Douglas  put  the  coffee-pot  to  boil 
and  thawed  out  the  bacon.  It  was  not  until  she  had 
swallowed  a  second  cup  of  the  steaming  beverage  that 
the  snow  stupor  left  her  eyes. 

Suddenly  she  smiled,  and  said,  "It  almost  nipped  us 
that  time,  Douglas !" 

"And  yet  you  thought  you  could  make  Bowdin's  ranch 
alone!"  grunted  Douglas. 

"It  would  have  been  getting  warmer  all  the  time. 
There  would  have  been  nothing  like  this!"  shivering  as 
a  great  blast  of  wind  swept  over  the  top  of  the  rock 
heap. 

"You  risked  death  in  every  step,"  insisted  Douglas. 
"It  was  like  going  down  a  canyon  wall,  not  a  moun 
tainside.  The  drifts  and  ice  made  it  impossible  to  tell 
how  your  next  movement  would  end." 

"Well,"  sighed  Judith,  "I  don't  think  I'm  regretting 
my  decision.  This  might  be  worse,"  stretching  out  her 
mittened  hands  to  the  blaze. 

"Nice,  girlish  kind  of  amusements  you  enjoy!"  grunted 
Douglas,  with  a  little  grin.  "Something  quiet  and  rest 
ful  about  playing  games  with  you,  Jude !  Now  listen, 
my  dearest,  don't  close  your  eyes  until  I  tell  you  you  may. 


332    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

A  night  camp  under  Black  Devil  Pass  is  plain  suicide, 
if  you  forget  for  a  moment." 

Judith  threw  off  the  blankets.  "I'll  chop  some  wood 
and  get  warmed  up." 

"Aren't  you  warm  now?"  asked  Douglas. 

"All  but  around  the  edges,"  replied  Jude. 

"Well,  you  put  the  blankets  round  yourself  again  and 
save  your  strength  for  to-morrow.  You'll  need  it.  It 
won't  take  me  long  to  get  things  ready  for  the  night." 

Judith  snuggled  back  in  the  blankets.  "I'm  really  not 
a  bit  more  done  up  than  you  are,  but  it's  worth  a  trip 
over  the  Pass  to  see  a  Lost  Chief  rancher  take  such  care 
of  a  girl.  I  didn't  know  you  had  it  in  you,  Doug!" 

Douglas  laughed  and  began  making  the  camp  ready 
for  the  night.  When  he  had  finished  his  preparations, 
he  sat  down  beside  Judith,  pulled  a  part  of  the  blankets 
over  his  shoulders  and  drew  her  close  against  him.  The 
Wolf  Cub  lay  as  close  as  he  could  crowd  against  Judith's 
other  side,  his  nose  almost  in  the  embers. 

Judith  looked  into  Doug's  face  attentively.  His  eyes 
were  heavy  and  deep  sunk  in  his  head. 

"You  are  very,  very  tired,  Douglas.  Why  don't  you 
get  some  sleep?" 

Douglas  shook  his  head.  "To-morrow,  if  all  goes 
well,  we'll  reach  Nelson's  place.  This  is  to  be  my  one 
last  night  alone  with  you.  I'm  not  going  to  sleep  until 
I  have  to.  This  camp  might  seem  sort  of  cold  and 
up  in  the  air  to  some  people,  but  to  me,  it's  pretty  close 
to  heaven!" 

"I  never  can  connect  the  man  you've  grown  to  be," 
mused  Judith,  "with  the  horrid  boy  you  were  once.  I 
wonder  what  has  changed  you  so?" 

"Boys  are  rotten,"  agreed  Douglas  cheerfully.     "Lov- 


ELIJAH  NELSON'S  RANCH  333 

ing  you  is  what  has  changed  me  most.  Everything  else 
came  out  of  that." 

"I  suppose,"  Judith  looked  at  the  fire  thoughtfully, 
"that  if  I'm  going  to  work  in  an  office,  I'd  better  begin 
to  polish  up  my  manners." 

"You'll  be  a  wonder  in  an  office!"  said  Douglas.  "I 
can  just  see  you  coaxing  and  taming  a  typewriter  same 
as  you  coaxed  and  tamed  old  Sioux.  And  just  about  as 
easy  a  job.  You  won't  miss  your  horses  and  the  Wolf 
Cub.  You  won't  be  homesick  for  the  range.  O  no!" 

"I've  thought  that  all  out,  too,"  returned  Judith  coolly. 
"I'll  hate  every  moment  of  it.  But  I'll  be  learning." 

"Learning  what,  Judith?" 

"About  life!" 

"About  life !  Judith,  this  is  life.  All  of  life.  This !" 
He  turned  her  face  to  his  and  kissed  her  lingeringly. 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment  and  there  were  tears 
in  her  eyes.  Then  she  said,  softly,  "No,  it's  only  a  part 
of  life.  Things  of  the  mind  count  heavily  as  you  grow 
older.  They  count  very  much  with  you  right  now. 
What  else  is  your  fight  for  the  sky  pilot  but  a  thing  of 
the  mind?" 

"It's  all  based  on  my  love  for  you,  Judith,"  repeated 
Doug.  "Judith,  you  never  can  stay  away  from  Lost 
Chief." 

"I'll  stick  it  out  See  if  I  don't!  Will-power  is  the 
best  thing  I  possess.  Inez  always  said  I'd  never  get  up 
courage  to  leave.  Perhaps  I  wouldn't  have  if  I  hadn't 
been  so  angry.  But  I  did  leave.  She  didn't  know  me." 

"I  wish  Inez  had  run  away.  She's  been  your  and 
my  curse." 

"How  is  she  worse  than  Charleton?" 

"She's  more  likable  and  a  lot  finer  and  so  she  has 


334    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

more  influence.  You  don't  really  think  for  a  moment 
that  Peter  will  marry  her,  do  you?"  Douglas  spoke 
contemptuously. 

"Well,  if  he  doesn't  marry  her,  it  won't  be  because  he 
considers  that  he's  led  a  perfect  life,  I  hope." 

"That  isn't  the  point.  I  think  that  men  insist  on 
marrying  decent  women  because  there's  a  race  instinct 
that  makes  a  man  turn  to  something  better  than  himself 
for  his  mate.  It's  what  lifts  the  race,  keeps  the  spiritual 
side  of  life  moving  uphill  instead  of  do\vn.  If  this 
wasn't  true,  human  beings  would  never  have  got  out  of 
the  monkey  stage." 

Judith  looked  at  Doug  with  interest.  "That  might 
all  be  true,  but  I  hope  you  don't  put  that  up  as  an  excuse 
for  the  double  code." 

"No.  I  don't.  I'm  just  stating  one  of  the  selfish, 
brutal  facts  of  life." 

Judith  made  no  reply,  and  for  a  long  time  Douglas 
made  no  attempt  to  break  the  silence.  It  was  enough 
to  be  sitting  under  the  brilliant  heavens  with  Judith's 
wonderful  body  warm  against  his  side.  The  far-drawn 
cry  of  the  coyotes  disturbing  him  now  no  more  than  it  did 
the  Wolf  Cub  listening  but  unheeding. 

"I  can't  help  thinking  about  old  Johnny,"  said  Judith 
at  last.  "It's  going  to  worry  me  terribly  when  I'm  by 
myself  again.  I  should  have  stopped  and  taken  care 
of  him." 

"It's  not  going  to  worry  me,"  returned  Douglas  quietly. 
"The  poor  old  fellow  was  unhappy  and  useless.  He  died 
a  real  hero's  death  for  some  one  he  loved.  Folks  in 
Lost  Chief  are  going  to  remember  that  instead  of  his 
poor  old  feeble  mind." 


ELIJAH  NELSON'S  RANCH  335 

"I'm  glad  you  were  kind  to  him !  You  have  been  wise 
and  kind  in  many  ways,  Doug,  and  you  are  only  a  boy. 
I  believe  Peter  is  right  in  saying  you  are  going  to  be  a 
big  man." 

"Shucks !  Peter  doesn't  know  that  all  the  good  there 
is  in  me  is  built  on  you." 

"That  isn't  true,"  contradicted  Judith.  "You're  big 
within  yourself.  Even  Inez  said  that." 

Douglas  grunted  and  his  voice  was  without  enthusiasm 
as  he  said,  "Inez  can't  see  anything  straight  that  is 
related  to  love.  I'll  admit  she's  dangerously  interesting. 
If  I  hadn't  always  been  caring  for  you,  she  might  have 
got  me  twisted  the  same  as  she  has  you." 

"I'm  not  twisted,"  protested  Judith  stoutly.  "I'm  just 
not  afraid  to  see  marriage  as  it  is.  Sordid!" 

"Inez!"  sniffed  Douglas. 

"Let's  not  begin  that  again!"  exclaimed  Judith. 
"Just  love  me,  Douglas,  and  let  me  go  away." 

He  drew  her  closer  still.  "Love  you!"  he  repeated  in 
his  quiet  voice.  "You  might  as  well  tell  me  to  breathe 
or  my  heart  to  keep  on  beating.  I  haven't  done  any 
thing  else  since  the  day  I  drove  the  preacher  out  of  the 
schoolhouse.  Even  when  I've  tried  to  stop  caring, 
I  couldn't  do  it!"  with  a  whimsical  smile.  "Do  you 
remember  how  I  wouldn't  let  you  go  with  Dad  to  feed 
the  yearlings?" 

"Yes,  I  remember  because  from  that  moment  you 
were  a  little  different  from  other  Lost  Chief  men  in 
my  mind.  Tell  me  some  more." 

Douglas  stared  at  the  fire,  going  in  retrospect  over 
the  long,  long  fight,  the  fight  that  still  was  only  half 
over. 


336    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"I  can't  put  it  into  words  that  will  make  it  seem  as 
big  to  you  as  it  is  to  me,  Judith.  Tell  me,  have  you 
been  lonely  all  your  life?" 

"Yes.  Very,  very  lonely.  With  the  feeling  that  there 
was  no  one  to  understand." 

"That's  the  way  it's  been  with  me,  only  I  always 
knew  that  if  you  could  care  for  me  we  could  under 
stand  each  other.  I  want  to  make  you  know  me  to-night, 
Jude.  I  want  to  fix  my  real  self  so  in  your  mind  that 
wherever  you  go,  you'll  have  me  with  you." 

"You  did  that  long  ago,  Douglas,"  said  Judith  softly. 

"Have  I?"  wistfully.  "You  see,  Jude,  you  are  so 
mixed  up  in  my  mind  with  Grandfather's  dream  of  Lost 
Chief,  and  mine,  and  the  preacher,  and  God,  that  I  don't 
know  myself  where  one  leaves  off  and  another  begins. 
And  to-night,  one  part  of  me  is  on  fire  with  happiness  and 
another  is  frozen  with  discouragement.  Are  you  sure 
you  can  care  for  me,  Judith?" 

"Ever  since  that  night  in  the  hay-loft  when  you  kissed 
me,  after  your  father  shot  Swift.  I  didn't  want  to 
love  you.  There  didn't  seem  much  romance  about  a 
boy  you'd  lived  with  all  your  life.  I  didn't  want  to 
marry.  I  wanted  to  give  all  there  was  in  me  to  some 
one  big  and  fine  enough  to  appreciate  it.  And  after 
all,  it's  only  you." 

"Only  me!"   ejaculated  Douglas,   comically. 

Judith  did  not  smile.  "I  fought  and  fought  against 
it.  But  every  year  I  saw  you  growing  into  a  bigger, 
finer  man  than  Lost  Chief  ever  had  known — a  lonely 
sort  of  a  man,  not  afraid  to  be  laughed  at  even  when  it 
was  about  a  matter  of  religion.  I  hated  to  see  you 
making  a  fool  of  yourself,  and  yet  I  admired  you  for  it. 
You  grew  so  straight  and  self -controlled,  and  Doug, 


ELIJAH  NELSON'S  RANCH  337 

you  are  so  wonderful  to  look  at!  Your  father  never 
dreamed  of  being  as  handsome  as  you.  He's  just  a 
great  animal.  But  no  one  can  look  into  your  eyes  and 
not  see  how  you've  fought  to  make  a  man  of  yourself. 
I  love  you,  Douglas!" 

They  clung  to  each  other  in  the  firelight,  heedless  of 
the  unthinkable  loneliness  that  hemmed  them  in,  of  the 
ardors  of  the  day,  of  the  terror  of  to-morrow. 

"Judith!  Judith!  I  cannot  let  you  go!"  breathed 
Douglas. 

"I  must  go!"  Judith  freed  herself  suddenly. 
"Nothing  shall  persuade  me  to  go  back  to  the  common 
ness  of  marriage  in  Lost  Chief." 

"Marriage  is  exactly  what  you  make  it,"  declared 
Douglas.  "I  believe  we  can  keep  it  beautiful." 

"I'm  afraid!"  repeated  Judith.  "It's  hard  to  do  or  be 
anything  fine  in  Lost  Chief.  You  know  that.  See  what 
they  did  to  you!  Douglas,  what  are  you  going  to  do 
about  their  burning  up  your  ranch?" 

Judith  felt  his  muscles  stiffen.  "I'm  going  to  fix 
Scott  and  Charleton,  once  and  for  all,"  he  replied. 

"Shall  you  rebuild  the  chapel?" 

"Yes—  Douglas  made  the  affirmation  then  stopped, 
abruptly.  Rebuild  the  chapel?  And  Judith  not  there? 
Put  up  the  big  fight  for  old  Fowler,  and  Judith  never 
returning  to  Lost  Chief?  Where  now  was  all  the  zest 
for  the  fight?  Why  the  chapel,  why  the  ranch,  why 
the  big  dream  for  the  children  who  were  to  grow  up 
properly  in  the  Valley? 

"No!"  he  exclaimed  suddenly.  "I  shan't  rebuild  the 
chapel !" 

"Fowler  was  the  wrong  man,"  Judith  said.  "You 
must  realize  that  now.  I  wonder  what  they  did  with  the 


338    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

poor  old  chap.  I  don't  want  any  harm  to  come  to  him 
even  if  he  did  make  you  a  lot  of  trouble." 

"It  doesn't  matter,"  muttered  Doug.  "It's  all  over 
for  me  if  you  are  going  away — "  his  voice  broke  and  he 
shivered  violently. 

Judith  looked  into  his  face  with  quick  anxiety.  His 
lips  were  blue.  "You  go  chop  some  wood !"  she  ordered. 
"And  when  you  are  warmed  up,  you  creep  into  the 
blankets  with  Wolf  Cub  and  sleep  for  four  hours.  I'll 
keep  the  fire  up.  You  are  so  tired,  Doug,  that  the 
cold  will  get  you  if  you  aren't  careful." 

Douglas  rose  stiffly,  and  wearily  began  an  attack  on 
another  cedar.  But  he  had  not  taken  a  dozen  strokes 
when  he  began  to  sink  slowly  to  the  ground.  Judith 
ran  to  him  and  helped  him  back  to  the  blankets.  Then 
she  covered  him  snugly,  and  in  a  moment  he  was  asleep. 

It  was  midnight  when  she  wakened  Douglas.  She 
was  blue  and  shivering.  "I'm  a  new  man,  Judith.  Roll 
in  quickly!"  and  he  picked  up  the  faithful  ax. 

It  was  long  and  biting  cold  till  dawn.  Douglas  was 
too  weary,  too  much  menaced  by  the  cold,  to  think 
coherently;  for  now,  conscious  of  the  depletion  of  his 
strength,  even  his  new-found  happiness  could  not  blur 
the  fact  that  he  and  Judith  were  playing  with  death  on 
Black  Devil  Peak.  He  kept  the  fire  going  and  fought 
the  desire  to  sleep  until,  far  below  and  to  the  east,  the 
Indian  Range  turned  black  against  a  crimson  sky.  Then 
he  awakened  Judith.  They  made  a  hasty  breakfast, 
then  started  the  stiff  and  weary  horses  through  the 
drifts  toward  Mormon  Valley. 

But  Tom  horse,  facing  homeward,  needed  none  of  the 
rowelling  that  he  had  demanded  on  the  way  up.  The 
cold  and  wind  were  difficult  to  bear,  for  the  two  young 


ELIJAH  NELSON'S  RANCH  339 

people  were  inexpressibly  weary  of  brain  as  well  as  body. 
By  noon  they  made  the  valley.  It  was  a  slow-moving 
little  outfit  that  finally  limped  past  Nelson's  corral  and 
was  greeted  by  a  shout  from  the  cabin  door. 

Elijah,  his  wife,  and  children,  rushed  out  to  meet  them 
and  led  them  into  the  big  bed-living-room  off  the  kitchen. 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Nelson,  "I  knew  she'd  have  to 
come  back  with  you!" 


CHAPTER  XIX 

HOME 

TAOUGLAS  was  half  blinded  by  snow-glare  and  wind, 
•*-^  so  it  was  several  minutes  before  he  observed  an 
old  man  sitting  eagerly  erect  on  one  of  the  beds.  Doug 
started  to  his  feet. 

"Where'd  you  come  from,  Mr.  Fowler!" 

"From  Lost  Chief  Peak.  Get  warm  and  rested, 
Doug,  before  you  try  to  talk." 

"I  was  starting  out  after  you  when  I  found  that  Ju 
dith—"  began  Doug.  "And  then—" 

"Judith,"  interrupted  Mr.  Fowler,  "needed  you  more 
than  I  did." 

"Did  they  hurt  you?"  insisted  Douglas. 

"No.     Don't  try  to  talk  till  you  are  rested,  my  boy." 

"That  won't  take  long!"  croaked  Douglas. 

But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  morning  before  he 
heard  the  preacher's  story  or  told  his  own.  Pie  was 
warmed  and  fed  enormously  and  rolled  into  a  feather 
bed.  And  he  knew  nothing  more  until  the  smell  of 
coffee  and  the  sound  of  women's  voices  roused  him. 

The  living-room  was  flooded  with  sunlight.  The 
preacher  was  thrusting  wood  into  the  red-hot  stove, 

"Where's  Judith?"  asked  Douglas. 

"Helping  Mrs.  Nelson  get  breakfast.  How  are 
you?" 

"Fine!  Do  you  suppose  I  can  shave  before  break 
fast?" 

340 


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341 


The  preacher  nodded  toward  a  washstand  in  the  cor 
ner  and  Douglas  began  to  make  his  toilet.  Mr.  Fowler 
made  no  attempt  to  talk  during  this  process  but  stood 
before  the  fire,  watching  the  young  man  with  somber, 
wistful  eyes. 

It  was  an  exceedingly  well-groomed  young  rider  who 
appeared  at  Elijah's  long  breakfast  table  a  half-hour 
later.  Judith,  snow-burned,  but  otherwise  a  very  fit 
young  person,  gave  him  an  appreciative  look  and  smile, 
and  left  him  to  the  others  while  she  went  on  with  her 
breakfast. 

They  sat  long  at  the  table.  The  children  were  sent 
off  to  school.  The  adventure  up  and  down  Black  Devil 
Peak  was  thoroughly  discussed.  Then  Douglas  turned 
to  the  preacher. 

"And  what  did  they  do  to  you,  Mr.  Fowler?" 

The  old  man  smiled  grimly.  "That  won't  take  long 
to  tell.  Old  Johnny  and  I  went  to  sleep  soon  after  you 
left,  and  the  first  thing  I  knew  I  was  being  gagged  and 
blind-folded  by  a  couple  of  fellows  in  masks.  They 
carried  me  out  to  the  corral  and  fastened  me  onto  a 
horse.  I  didn't  put  up  a  fight,  Doug.  I'm  too  old. 
One  of  the  men  then  led  my  horse  off  at  a  gallop.  What 
became  of  the  other  man  and  Johnny,  I  can  only  surmise 
from  what  Mr.  Nelson  has  told  me." 

"Who  were  the  men?"  demanded  Douglas. 

"I  don't  know.  Of  course,  I  suspect  Charleton  Falk- 
ner  and  Scott  Parsons.  I  suppose  it  was  Scott  Par 
sons,  though  I  couldn't  prove  it.  I  suppose  he  took  me 
along  the  trail  Nelson  has  kept  open  past  the  old  Govern 
ment  corral  to  get  to  Scott's  trail  when  he  goes  for  his 
mail.  Anyhow,  he  locked  me  into  that  old  cabin,  up  in 
the  Government  corral.  There  was  fuel  and  matches,  so 
he  didn't  want  me  to  freeze  to  death.  I  think  he  intended 


342    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

to  come  back  the  next  day  and  take  me  somewhere  else 
before  I  freed  myself  or  some  one  found  me.  But  his 
plan  must  have  miscarried  for  he  didn't  come  back.  It 
was  so  very  cold  and  I  was  so  lightly  clad  that  at  first 
I  didn't  dare  to  start  out  even  after  I'd  broken  the  door 
open.  But  two  days  of  hunger  made  me  desperate.  The 
trail  was  fairly  well  snowed  in  but  I  headed  for  what 
I  thought  would  be  Nelson's  ranch.  But  in  an  hour  or 
so  I  was  all  in.  If  Elijah  hadn't  found  me,  I'd  have  died 
of  the  cold  up  there  on  the  mountainside." 

"I  was  riding  over  to  Lost  Trail  for  news,"  explained 
Elijah. 

"You  were  riding  for  God,  I'd  say,"  cried  Mr.  Fowler. 
"And  if  I'd  been  a  Mormon  bishop  I  couldn't  have  been 
made  more  welcome  than  I  have  been  here." 

"A  preacher's  a  preacher,"  said  Elijah.  "Well,  Doug 
las,  what's  next  on  your  program?" 

Douglas  looked  at  Judith.  "I've  promised  to  take  Ju 
dith  up  to  Mountain  City.  She's  going  to  get  a  job  up 
there,  and  I  am  too!" 

Judith  put  down  her  coffee-cup  and  her  great  eyes 
blazed.  "Why,  Douglas  Spencer!  You  are  going  to 
do  nothing  of  the  sort!" 

"What  is  Lost  Chief  to  me  without  you?"  asked  Doug 
las,  coolly  and  entirely  ignoring  the  eager-eyed  audience. 

Judith's  face  expressed  entire  disapproval.  "I  never 
thought  you'd  let  them  run  you  out,  Doug!"  She  turned 
to  Mr.  Fowler.  "Don't  let  him  be  a  quitter,  Mr.  Fow 
ler." 

Mr.  Fowler  was  watching  Douglas  with  troubled  eyes. 
"I  don't  know,"  he  said,  "that  I  blame  Douglas.  It  seems 
to  me  that  Lost  Chief  will  have  to  become  conscious 
of  its  needs  before  it  can  be  helped.  I  love  Douglas 
very  much.  I'd  not  be  sorry  to  see  him  get  out  into 


HOME  343 

the  world  where  there's  a  bigger  chance  for  his  abilities 
than  in  that  godless  valley." 

Judith  turned  from  the  preacher  impatiently.  "Doug 
las  Spencer !  You  know  you'll  never  be  happy  anywhere 
else.  Lost  Chief  is  your  home  and  the  home  of  all  your 
people  before  you." 

''How  about  its  being  home  to  you?"  asked  Douglas. 

"No  place  can  be  home  to  me  that  doesn't  need  all 
that's  in  me,"  replied  Judith.  "Lost  Chief  is  no  place 
for  me.  It's  not  a  woman's  country." 

"It  ought  to  be  made  fit  for  women  and  for  little 
children !"  cried  Mr.  Fowler,  with  sudden  vehemence. 
"I  should  have  done  it.  But  I  failed  there  as  I  have 
everywhere.  I  didn't  bring  God  to  Lost  Chief,  nor  to 
Judith,  nor  worst  of  all,  to  Douglas." 

"Don't  you  two  young  people  believe  in  God?"  de 
manded  Elijah  Nelson. 

They  stared  at  him   without  replying. 

"Who  guided  Judith  over  the  Pass?"  asked  the  Mor 
mon.  "Her  own  smartness,  I  suppose,  or  chance,  any 
thing  but  the  hand  of  the  Almighty!" 

"It  was  Destiny.  All  of  it  has  been  Destiny,"  said 
Douglas  suddenly. 

"And  what  is  Destiny  but  God?"  asked  Elijah. 

No  one  spoke  for  a  moment.  Then  Elijah  went  on, 
with  Mr.  Fowler's  own  vehemence: 

"You  folks  over  in  Lost  Chief  have  seen  fit  to  treat 
us  Mormons  as  if  we  were  a  pack  of  coyotes  bedding 
down  too  near  your  herds.  Did  you  ever  try  to  find 
out  what  kind  of  people  we  really  are  and  why  we  stay 
and  win  out  when  we  settle  in  a  place?  I'll  tell  you. 
The  church  makes  our  settlements  for  us.  When  she 
calls  us  to  settle  in  the  wild  she  says,  Go,  five  families, 
or  ten,  or  twenty,  and  settle  in  such  a  place.  Take  with 


344    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

you  your  wives  and  babies.  Put  your  roots  deep  in 
the  soil.  Build  for  the  future  generations.  Make  a 
community  deep  fertilized  by  the  idea  of  Mormonism, 
train  your  children  in  it,  cling  one  family  to  the  other 
in  helpfulness  and  to  the  church  in  faith.  Co-operate 
with  each  other  and  with  the  church,  and  the  church 
will  stand  by  you  and  loan  you  money,  give  you  advice, 
be  your  very  fountain  of  life. 

"And  the  church  does  stand  by  us  and  we  by  it.  And 
we  are  building  up  God-fearing  communities  all  over  the 
West,  just  like  the  Puritans  once  built  up  in  the  East. 
Why?  Because  we  pioneer,  inspired  by  our  church  and 
the  love  of  God!  What  Gentile  church  is  doing  this, 
answering  the  economic  needs  of  its  people  as  well  as 
the  spiritual?  Why  should  a  settlement  like  yours 
prosper?  Why,  the  most  promising  young  man  in  it 
is  deserting  it  to  chase  after  a  flighty  girl!  It  has  no 
church.  It  has  no  minister.  Ha!  As  long  as  you 
Gentiles  are  so,  the  Mormons  can  ride  over  you  and 
crowd  you  out!" 

"You  can't  do  anything  of  the  kind!"  declared  Ju 
dith. 

"Why  not?"  asked  Douglas  bitterly.  "Of  course  they 
can!  Nelson  is  dead  right." 

Elijah  gave  Judith  a  scornful  glance.  "You  ought  to 
be  satisfied,  Judith.  You'll  be  getting  your  own  way, 
no  matter  what  becomes  of  Douglas.  He  ought  never 
to  leave  Lost  Chief.  Though  it  will  be  better  for  us 
Mormons  if  he  does." 

Douglas  was  following  his  own  line  of  thought.  "The 
Mormons  are  right,"  he  said.  "It's  the  families  that 
count.  A  man  can't  do  real  pioneering  without  a  woman 
and  Lost  Chief  is  still  pioneering.  The  right  kind 


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of  a  woman  could  do  more  for  Lost  Chief  than  a  man." 

Judith  looked  at  him  with  gathering  intentness.  "How 
could  she,  Doug?" 

"Why,  look  at  the  influence  Inez  has!  She's  thought 
it  worth  while  to  influence  people,  so's  to  justify  her 
way  of  living.  She's  beautiful  and  she's  bad.  If  a 
woman  who  was  beautiful  and  good  made  up  her  mind 
to  make  Lost  Chief  the  paradise  it  ought  to  be,  nothing 
could  stop  her." 

"If  she  had  the  church  to  back  her,"  said  Elijah  Nel 
son. 

Douglas  nodded;  then,  his  face  aflame,  he  jumped  to 
his  feet.  "If  Jude  and  I  could  work  together  in  Lost 
Chief  we'd —  My  God,  do  you  know  what  I'd  do? 
I'd  rebuild  the  cabin  and  I'd  rebuild  the  chapel.  And 
we'd  bring  Mr.  Fowler  back.  And  Judith  and  I  would 
go  to  church  to  him  and  we'd  hunt  for  God  till  we 
found  Him!  And  when  we  found  Him,  we'd  go  out 
and  bring  the  children  of  the  Valley  to  the  church. 
It's  the  children  that  count.  We'd  dish  all  this  dis 
cussion  with  the  grown  folks.  All  the  Scotts  and 
Charletons  and  Inez  Rodmans  in  the  Valley  wouldn't 
count  if  the  children  would  be  sure  of  God."  He  turned 
to  Judith.  "You'll  admit,  won't  you,  Jude,  that  if  you 
and  I  had  had  faith,  our  childhood  would  have  been  a 
finer  thing?" 

"Yes,  I  think  that's  true,"  admitted  Judith.  "Do  you 
think  there's  a  job  there  for  me,  Mr.  Fowler,  all  faithless 
as  I  am?" 

Mr.  Fowler  nodded.  "Yes,  I  do.  Lost  Chief  offers 
a  full-sized  job  to  a  woman  with  a  brain  and  the  right 
kind  of  a  vision.  She  could,  indeed,  help  to  make  it 
a  very  paradise  for  children." 


346    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"If  the  church  didn't  hamper  her  too  much."  Mrs. 
Nelson  spoke  for  the  first  time.  "The  church  and  God 
are  both  males." 

Judith  gave  the  Mormon  wife  a  sudden  appreciative 
smile.  Douglas,  watching  the  girl's  kindling  face,  said 
in  his  gentle  way,  "I've  often  thought  if  anybody  could 
get  the  right  kind  of  a  moral  hold  on  the  kids  of  Lost 
Chief,  the  greatest  horsemanship  in  the  world  could  be 
developed  in  that  old  valley." 

"You  are  dreaming  dreams !"  exclaimed  Nelson.  "All 
this  takes  time,  and  you  Lost  Chief  folks  want  to  realize 
that  the  Mormons  are  coming!" 

Judith  eyed  her  host  keenly;  then  she  turned  to  Doug 
las  with  overwhelming  interest  welling  to  her  eyes. 
"This  is  the  first  time,"  she  cried,  "that  you've  ever 
suggested  any  kind  of  a  future  to  me  that  made  a  de 
mand  on  my  intelligence.  Mr.  Nelson,  have  you  really  got 
your  eyes  on  Lost  Chief  Valley,  or  are  you  just  trying 
to  bluff  Douglas  into  going  back  because  you  like  him?" 

The  Mormon's  eyes  narrowed  and  his  jaw  set.  "I 
like  him,  yes,  but  the  church  says  we  are  to  take  Lost 
Chief  Valley,  and  we  are  going  to  take  it  when  the  time 
is  ripe.  I  can  afford  to  be  as  kind  as  I  want  to  be  to 
Douglas  and  Fowler.  Nothing  can  stop  us  when  we 
cross  into  your  valley  with  the  church  behind  us.  You 
folks  hang  together  by  habit.  We  Mormons  are  knit 
together  by  a  divine  idea  that  takes  care  of  every  moment 
of  our  lives.  Do  you  think  a  man  like  Scott  Parsons 
can  guard  your  gates  ?  And  Douglas  is  running  away !" 

Judith  jumped  to  her  feet,  indignation  flashing  from 
her  eyes. 

"He  is  not!  If  your  Mormon  religion  can  do 
all  you  claim  for  you,  then  our  religion  can  do  as  much 
for  us  as  it  did  for  our  ancestors.  I  never  did  believe 


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there  was  a  God.  But  that's  not  saying  He's  not  to 
be  found  if  you  really  hunt  for  Him." 

"  'If  with  all  your  hearts  ye  truly  seek  me,  ye  shall 
ever  surely  find  me,'  "  said  .Mr.  Fowler  quietly. 

Judith  gave  him  a  quick  look.  "That  isn't  the  kind 
of  a  God  we  young  folks  are  looking  for,"  she  said. 

"What  is  your  idea?"  asked  Mr.  Fowler. 

Judith  lifted  her  chin. 

"A  fire  mist  and  a  planet, 

A  crystal  and  a  cell, 

A  jelly-fish  and  a  saurian 

And  caves  where  cave-men  dwell. 

Then  a  sense  of  law  and  beauty, 

And  a  face  turned  from  the  clod, 

Some  call  it  Evolution 

And  others  call  it  God." 

There  was  quiet  in  the  warm,  homely  kitchen.  Doug 
las  watched  Judith  with  his  heart  in  his  eyes. 

Elijah  Nelson  cleared  his  throat.  "Nevertheless, 
Judith,"  he  said,  "this  is  a  fair  warning  that  I'm  going  to 
put  the  Book  of  Mormon  into  Lost  Chief." 

Judith  flushed,  her  lips  tightened,  and  she  walked  delib 
erately  around  the  table  and  took  the  preacher's  hand. 
"Come,  Mr.  Fowler,  let's  go  home  with  Douglas  and  get 
to  work!" 

Douglas  drew  a  long  breath. 

The  preacher  rose  with  alacrity.  "Where  shall  we 
go?"  he  asked. 

Douglas  answered.  "To  Peter's  until  I  can  rebuild  the 
cabin." 

Elijah  Nelson  smiled  grimly. 

"Let's  get  started!"   urged  Judith. 

The  breakfast  party  broke  up.  The  men  went  out  to 
attend  to  the  horses.  Judith  and  Mrs.  Nelson  turned  to 
the  dishes.  Douglas  from  the  corral  watched  the  back- 


348    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

door  attentively,  and  when  Mrs.  Nelson  appeared  he 
signaled  to  her  to  wait  for  him  to  speak  to  her. 

"Send  Jude  into  the  living-room  for  something,"  he 
whispered,  "and  then  keep  the  folks  out  while  I  talk  to 
her  for  a  little  while." 

Mrs.  Nelson  smiled  understandingly,  and  a  few 
moments  later  Douglas  was  standing  with  his  back 
to  the  living-room  stove,  both  of  his  arms  about 
Judith. 

"I  had  to  thank  you,"  he  said,  "and  you  were  too 
stupid  to  make  the  chance.  Judith!  Judith!  You've 
made  the  world  into  heaven  for  me!" 

"I'm  not  exactly  unhappy,  myself!"  Judith's  eyes 
glowed  as  she  returned  Doug's  look. 

"Judith,"  he  exclaimed,  "let's  ask  Mr.  Fowler  to  marry 
us  now,  before  we  start  home!" 

Judith  whitened  a  little.  "O  Douglas,  you  are  crowd 
ing  me,  my  dear!" 

"But  why  wait,  Judith?  Isn't  it  the  only  thing  to  do? 
Neither  of  us  will  ever  go  back  to  Dad's  ranch  again. 
We  can  be  married  and  camp  with  Peter  until  we  get 
the  cabin  rebuilt.  That's  won't  take  a  month.  O,  Ju 
dith,  please!" 

"It's — it's  too  soon!" 

"Too  soon  for  what?  We've  been  caring  a  long,  long 
time,  and  we  need  each  other  so!" 

Judith  freed  herself  from  Douglas'  arms  and  walked 
over  to  the  w-indow,  from  which  one  could  see  Black 
Devil  Peak  glowering  in  the  morning  sun.  She  stood  a 
long  time,  it  seemed  to  Douglas.  He  wondered  what 
thoughts  were  passing  in  that  fine  head  outlined  against 
the  snowy  fields.  What  sense  of  sacrifice,  he  thought, 
must  a  girl  like  Jude  have,  in  giving  up  her  life  to 
a  man?  Then  he  smiled,  half  grimly,  half  tenderly. 


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Judith  would  never  be  any  man's  really,  to  know  and 
to  hold.  Her  fiery  charm  was  a  thing  ever  to  pursue, 
never  fully  to  overtake.  "Forever  would  he  love  and 
she  be  fair!"  He  waited  silently,  his  heart  thudding 
heavily.  At  last  she  turned  from  the  window  and  came 
slowly  toward  him  with  a  look  in  her  eyes  he  could  not 
pretend  to  read  to  its  depths.  He  only  knew  that  there 
was  faith  in  him  there  and  a  passionate  affection.  What 
more,  he  was  willing  to  trust  to  the  future.  She  came 
and  leaned  against  him  and  he  knew  that  at  last  the 
long  struggle  was  ended. 

They  were  married  a  few  moments  later,  standing  be 
fore  the  window,  with  Douglas'  hair  a  halo  of  gold  above 
his  steady  eyes  and  Judith's  fine  head  held  high.  The 
Reverend  Mr.  Fowler  performed  the  rites  with  a  tremb 
ling  voice.  When  he  had  finished  he  said  to  Elijah  and 
his  wife : 

"In  all  my  long  experience  I  have  never  joined  together 
a  couple  with  such  infinite  satisfaction  as  this." 

"That's  good,"  said  Mrs.  Nelson,  wiping  her  eyes, 
"seeing  that  you're  going  on  the  wedding- journey  with 
them!" 

That  afternoon,  as  the  -shadows  on  the  plains  east 
of  the  post-office  grew  long  and  blue-black,  Judith,  Doug 
las  and  Mr.  Fowler  jingled  up  to  Peter's  door.  They 
slung  their  saddles  on  the  buck  fence,  turned  their  horses 
into  his  corral,  and  went  in.  Peter  was  standing  by  the 
stove,  dressed  for  a  cold  ride. 

"Judith !  You  are  safe !"  he  gasped,  taking  both  her 
hands  in  his,  his  sallow  face  suddenly  glowing.  "Where 
did  you  find  her,  Doug?" 

"Just  the  other  side  of  Black  Devil  Pass!" 

Peter  whistled,  stared,  then  turned  to  the  preacher. 
"And  where  did  you  come  from,  Fowler?" 


350    JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"Elijah  Nelson  rescued  me  from  the  west  side  of 
Lost  Chief  Peak." 

Judith  was  pulling  off  her  mackinaw  and  her  beaver 
cap.  "We'll  tell  you  a  wonderful  story  if  you'll  feed 
us,  Peter." 

Peter  undid  the  silk  handkerchief  from  his  ears.  "I 
was  outfitting  to  follow  Doug's  trail.  We  buried  poor 
little  old  Johnny  this  morning." 

The  quick  tears  sprang  to  Judith's  eyes;  but  she  said 
nothing,  and  Peter  went  on,  "I  got  your  father  home 
on  Monday.  My  guess  is  that  he  is  ashamed  enough 
of  himself  to  last  the  rest  of  his  life.  That's  about  the 
extent  of  my  stories.  Have  you  any  casualties  to  re 
port?" 

"Only  poor  Buster.  He  lies  in  a  snowdrift  up  on 
the  other  side  of  Black  Devil.  We  put  in  last  night 
at  Elijah  Nelson's,  where  we  found  Mr.  Fowler.  Can 
we  stay  with  you  for  a  while,  Peter?" 

"You  sure  can.  We  can  use  those  rooms  upstairs  for 
sleeping.  Fine!  I'll  be  glad  to  have  you.  You  too, 
Fowler." 

"Where's   Scott  Parsons?''   asked  Douglas. 

"He's  still  with  Inez.  Seems  like  you  gave  him  a 
bad  knock-out.  He's  having  rough  going,  I  can  tell 
you.  Inez  has  turned  against  him  and  Grandma  Brown 
had  to  go  over  there  and  take  care  of  him.  And  she 
is  in  no  frame  of  mind  to  stand  anything  from  any 
body."  Peter  chuckled,  then  went  on.  "Charleton  says 
he  was  in  bed  and  asleep  by  eleven  o'clock  Saturday 
night,  and  nobody  has  been  able  to  prove  that  he  wasn't. 
I  don't  think  there  is  a  doubt  in  the  world  that  it  was 
Scott  and  Charleton  did  the  dirty  work,  but  it's  going 
to  be  hard  to  prove." 


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Peter  set  a  kettle  of  beans  on  the  stove  and  Judith 
prepared  a  pot  of  coffee. 

"Take  off  your  spurs,  Fowler,'1  Peter  nodded  genially 
at  the  preacher.  "All's  well  that  ends  well.  I  hope 
that  nothing  more  than  your  feelings  got  hurt." 

To  Peter's  utter  astonishment  Mr.  Fowler  suddenly 
laughed  heartily. 

"My  feelings,  Peter,"  he  exclaimed,  "were  never  in 
better  trim  than  they  are  this  minute." 

"Nor  mine!"  agreed  Douglas. 

"Nor  mine!"  added  Judith. 

Peter  stared  from  one  face  to  another.  "It  sort  of 
looks,"  he  said  finally,  "as  if  I  had  sweated  blood  for 
nothing." 

"No,  you  haven't,  Peter!"  exclaimed  Douglas. 
"Tragedy  certainly  stalked  our  tracks." 

"Let  me  have  the  story,"  begged  the  postmaster. 
"Jude,  after  you  left  John  and  old  Johnny,  what  hap 
pened  ?  You  evidently  went  plumb  crazy.  Begin  at  that 
point.  And  don't  leave  out  anything!" 

He  lighted  his  pipe  and  sat  down.  Judith,  swinging 
her  spurred  boots  as  she  sat  on  the  table,  began  obediently. 
She  took  Peter  along  every  hour  of  her  trip  until  she 
fell  into  that  dreadful  sleep  on  the  south  slope  of  Black 
Devil.  Douglas  took  up  his  story  there  and  when  he 
had  finished,  Mr.  Fowler  repeated  the  account  of  his 
adventure. 

Peter  heaved  a  great  sigh.  "Some  adventure !  Lord ! 
Lord!  What  a  narrow  squeak!  Well,  and  what 
did  our  Mormon  friends  have  to  say  to  all  these  do 
ings?" 

Judith  and  Douglas  smiled  at  each  other.  Peter, 
catching  that  smile,  started  forward  in  his  chair,  then 


352     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

turned  to  Fowler.  The  preacher  smiled  broadly.  "Let 
me  tell  that  part  of  it,"  he  begged.  Douglas  and  Judith 
nodded,  and  the  old  man  plunged  with  great  enjoyment 
into  the  account  of  the  happenings  that  morning  at  Nel 
son's  ranch. 

When  he  finished  with  the  wedding,  Peter  rose,  his 
face  working.  He  walked  over  to  Judith  and  looked 
deep  into  her  eyes,  and  without  a  word  kissed  her  on 
the  cheek.  Then  he  wrung  Douglas'  hand. 

"Hang  it  all!"  he  said.  "There  is  something  start- 
lingly  right  the  way  life  works  out  if  you  give  it  a 
chance!" 

Nobody  answered.  Douglas  and  Judith  were  smiling 
at  each  other  and  the  preacher  was  engrossed  in  watch 
ing  them.  Peter  cleared  his  throat. 

"What  are  you  happy  idiots  going  to  do  about  Scott 
and  Charleton?" 

"I  had  planned  to  get  even  with  them  and  run  them 
out  of  the  Valley,"  said  Douglas;  "but,  after  all,  I 
owe  them  a  debt  of  gratitude.  Even  if  they  didn't  mean 
it  that  way!" 

"We'd  better  not  start  our  new  life  in  the  Valley  with 
a  fight,"  Judith  nodded.  "Anyhow  we've  agreed  that 
we  aren't  concerned  right  now  with  the  grown-ups." 

Peter  scratched  his  head.  "I  guess  you  are  sensible. 
But  I  think  pressure  can  be  brought  to  bear  to  make 
Charleton  and  Scott  rebuild  the  cabin  and  chapel  for 
you." 

Mr.  Fowler  shook  his  head  vehemently.  "I  wouldn't 
let  their  hands  desecrate  the  chapel !  Douglas  and  I  are 
going  to  build  it." 

"And  I  wouldn't  let  them  desecrate  the  cabin,"  declared 
Judith.  "So  I  guess  they  are  out  of  it.  We're  going 


HOME  353 

to  give  them  a  thorough  drubbing  but  quite  in  another 
way." 

Peter  chuckled  with  huge  enjoyment.  "What  are  you 
going  to  .do  about  Elijah  Nelson's  threat  to  take  Lost 
Chief  Valley  over  for  the  Mormons?" 

"I  don't  know  yet,"  said  Douglas ;  "but  we're  not  going 
to  let  him  do  it,  are  we,  Judith?" 

"We  certainly  are  not!  That's  one  reason  I  want  to 
keep  Scott  in  the  Valley.  If  Scott  could  get  the  idea 
of  fighting  with  his  mind  instead  of  his  gun,  he'd  be 
a  good  citizen." 

Peter  grinned  at  Fowler.  "The  infants  are  running 
the  Valley  already !  Well,  why  not  ?  They  are  the  new 
generation." 

"Peter,"  demanded  Judith,  "aren't  those  beans  ready 
yet?" 

The  postmaster  started  to  his  feet.  "I  suppose  you 
folks  are  hungry.  Judith,  you  set  the  table.  Doug,  did 
you  feed  the  horses  well?  It's  going  to  be  a  bitter-cold 
night." 

"Yes,  we  took  care  of  them,"  replied  Douglas,  absent- 
mindedly,  his  eyes  on  Judith. 

"Did  you?"  Peter  turned  to  Fowler.  "I  sha'n't  take 
Doug's  word  about  anything  that's  happened  subsequent 
to  the  ceremony." 

"I  think  you're  wise,"  nodded  the  preacher.  "But 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  we  did  feed  them.  Shall  I  put  the 
chairs  up?" 

"Go  ahead,"  said  Peter,  setting  the  pot  of  beans  in 
the  middle  of  the  table. 

Then,  as  they  gathered  around  the  table,  the  preacher 
hesitated,  looked  from  one  face  to  another,  and  asked, 
"Do  you  mind  if  I  say  grace?" 


354     JUDITH  OF  THE  GODLESS  VALLEY 

"No,"  replied  Peter  firmly,  "we  don't  mind.  You 
can  say  grace,  make  signs,  or  do  anything  else  that 
will  help  you  hang  on  in  the  big  fight  you've  got  ahead 
of  you.  I'll  say  it  too,  if  it  will  strengthen  your  hands." 

Mr.  Fowler  shook  his  head,  smiled,  and  covering  his 
eyes,  poured  out  his  heart  to  the  Almighty. 


THE  END 


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